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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002925">A Line and Where to Draw it</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinytheyoungwolf/pseuds/destinytheyoungwolf'>destinytheyoungwolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Destiny (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Angst and Humor, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:40:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinytheyoungwolf/pseuds/destinytheyoungwolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a matter of a line and where to draw it; for the line between Light and Dark was so very thin. The Guardian, her ghost, his cracked shell and her shaking hands were all that stood between them. Post Forsaken to current season with flashbacks as far back as D1.  An analysis exploring my Guardian, the characters of Destiny, and the story so far. Re-edited</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cayde-6/Female Guardian (Destiny), Female Guardian &amp; Eris Morn, Female Guardian/Ghost (Destiny), Female Guardian/Petra Venj, Female Guardian/The Crow (Destiny), Female Guardian/Uldren Sov, Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Interlude 1: A Bittersweet Revenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer. I do not own Destiny, its lore, or its characters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was, well, the night to his day. If there was any other way to put it, he thought, he would. Before it had been simple. The two of them had been exactly what they are, or were rather, defenders of the Last City. They were the Traveler’s chosen. She held the gun, or the sword, and he was the guide, the operator of sorts. And together they shared the Light. A perfect pair, they had slain gods together after all, real and fake. They had a bond: his thoughts, hers and her heart, his. And he even knew her name. Not “The Guardian”, or Young Wolf as she preferred. Not even Godslayer, Crotas End, Kingslayer and all the other titles she had. He knew her name.  He was now the only one who did. It was a great mystery to the people of the Last City, their nameless savior who defied gods and demons for them, who woke the Traveler. It was a joke amongst fellow guardians, and a jab by the jealous ones. Altogether, it was a strange choice, in the opinion of most; to not make a name of oneself. Instead, her deeds spoke for her. </p><p>She had asked him once, when she was but freshly risen, what he would like to be called. She herself had refused a name, rejecting his ideas or naming herself, denying needing one. She had stated she’d no idea who she was, other than what she was. And then he, like her, had refused for the same reason. “Ghost” is what I am, “your ghost”. “Why would you call me something else? “ </p><p>But now, he regrets it.  Their bond had become estranged.  She was darker now. More distant. Quieter than she’d ever been. He’d felt her pulling away from him, acting more and more unlike herself. She’d stopped telling him things. Stopped the friendly banter between them. She’d become a wall. He had no insight into her thoughts, but he could feel her heartbreak. He could feel her fury, and it terrified him. It was cold and dark. It gave him chills nearly the way Oryx’s realm had. It was not right, like a hunger unsatisfied. </p><p>She was a relentless machine, unstoppable, hell bent on revenge. The woman was on a rampage of sorts, decimating anything in her way, and even morality, Ghost feared. Her blatant disregard for right from wrong the past few months was unacceptable for a guardian. This isn’t why the Traveler chose her, right? It was no longer justice. Ghost could see it so clearly. She should not be judge, jury, and verdict. And for it to end like this... it was cold blood. </p><p>Ghost was angry. Furious for so many reasons. He was angry as a result of their disagreement, angry for the life lost, and angry at the rift between them. This whole time he felt he had simply been trailing behind her instead of working with her. He hated it. He felt as alone as she must feel. They were supposed to be a team. Yet still he supported her despite his opinion. What other choice was there? He still remembered what they were supposed to be, even though she would not listen to him at all. He had tried again and again to reach her, and was met only with silence. It hurt, and he did not know how to tell her, or reach her. Even so, he would never abandon her. Especially not now, when she needed him most. Whether she knew it or not.</p><p> He could feel the confusion coming off of her in waves. “I told you so,” he almost wanted to say. “Do you feel any better? Didn’t think so” But he kept it to himself. Those thoughts were unlike him, coming from his stress and anger. Her emotions were affecting him too. If he had a heart it would be in pieces for her, for himself, and for two dead men. And it sure felt like he did. Her heart was still his after all, albeit their emotions jumbled differently and their thoughts in different spaces altogether. Perhaps if they had just called each other by name, there would be something else to tie them together. Something that would feel more personal than floating over her shoulder while she stares at her hands.</p><p>After so long without a name, his guardian finally had one. She hadn’t named herself. CAYD-6 had done it on a quiet night while the stars shone brightest. The two guardians  had walked quietly, side by side on the street. Their shoulders brushing while slowly leaving Cayd’s favorite ramen shop.  Ghost had even then, been content to have just called her His Guardian. Cayd’s name for her was different. His Gaurdian, and himself were one in the same, each a part to a whole. So Ghost had been overjoyed when his Guardian had taken the name. She’d never told anyone else. A name was so personal, he supposed, for a guardian who awoke with no memories of who they were. Yet when Cayd-6 had named her, and said, “I dunno, I feel like it suits you,” Ghost had felt his Guardian smile, had felt her feel whole. Her name had been for Cayd, and for him alone.  </p><p>And now the man she loved was dead. Been dead. His gun in her hands. His gun which had killed him and now his killer. The Ace of Spades. The Guardian’s bright green eyes burned. Staring. </p><p>“Guardian,” Ghost says finally, instantly regretting it. Saying it felt, he struggled to form the abstract feeling  into something coherent. Unequal. Off balance like the energy she radiated. The weight of the unsaid name and who gave it to her hung heavy in the air.  The amethyst floor reflected rays of light peaking from in between the crystal pillars. The golden sunshine filtered through glass windows and an open ceiling, casting a beautiful glow on a gruesome scene that marred the magnificent balcony. The strange birds of the Dreaming City sang the song of morning. </p><p>Lying no more than a few feet away, slightly up and to the left, Uldren Sov lay dead. His once fire colored eyes were dim, nearly grey, sightless and looking at the sky. The Awoken prince was clutching his necklace in his dead fist. Ghost felt his light twist. If he had a gut... </p><p>At his voice, his guardian snapped to attention, tucking Ace into her belt. </p><p>“We should go” Ghost insists gently. While her body moved, she still hadn’t looked at him, her gaze fixated on Uldren’s lifeless eyes. </p><p>Footsteps quick and featherlight patterned toward them. Ghost watched as his guardian, ever the machine, straightened and refocused her full attention.  Her eyes at last turned to focus on the woman appearing, back from making calls. </p><p>Petra Venj. </p><p>“They’re coming now,” she says, no doubt referring to what was left of the Awoken court. Political matters always made Ghost want to short out. The beautiful Awoken woman reached out, gently resting her hand on his guardian’s shoulder. </p><p>“Thank you Guardian,” the Queen’s Wrath murmured, her voice thick. Ghost can feel the pang in his guardians chest. </p><p>“It’s over.” she says finally. Her smooth and icy voice sounds empty. It’s been so long since Ghost has actually heard her speak. A week?<br/>
“No cousin,” Petra says. Ghost feels the quiet annoyance from his Guardian at yet again being called that.  “We honor Cayd-6, always. I will stay and try to pick up the pieces.”<br/>
She trails off, her hand sliding off the his guardian’s black shoulder plate. </p><p>“You could stay too, you know,” Petra says quietly. “If you like.” </p><p>Ghost knows even if the Guardian doesn’t. He waits. </p><p>She looks at him, finally. He could count the number of times she’s glanced his way lately on one human hand. Ghost remains silent. He wants to hear her voice again. Realizing Ghost has left a response up to her, she looks back at Petra’s hopeful face.</p><p>“We can’t,” she apologizes, “I have to return to the tower.” Relief floods Ghost. Consequences from the Vanguard or not, perhaps some normalcy will be pushed back upon them. </p><p>“You guardians and your tower,” Petra muses, but it’s soft.  “Well Guardian, if you... well,” she pauses, seeming to struggle with her words, deciding against saying more. “You know where to find me.” </p><p>The Guardian nods at her. One smooth dip of her head.<br/>
Together, Ghost and his Guardian turn. She takes three steps-four, and they’re gone. She doesn’t see, but Ghost does. How for just a moment, the transmit effects reflect the longing, and loss on Petra Venj’s face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prologue: " Hey, take me with you"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>While his vision fades, he can only think of her, how it had only just started, and how much he wishes he'd had more time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny, its lore, or its characters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cayd-6 had many secrets. And now, nervously folding his hands on the bar’s counter to stop fidgeting, he was currently deciding whether or not to keep one more. </p><p>The woman who sat beside him was the subject of course. Her eyes focused heavily on the pair of chopsticks she lifted to rose pink lips. Still, ramen noodles fell, splashing into her bowl. </p><p>“Oh you gotta, nope- you- ok” Cayd was saying, watching her struggle. </p><p>The woman laughed, a quiet gasp, her bright green eyes meeting his. They seemed to glow in the dim light. Well, they do really, her being an awoken and all, he thought. </p><p>She broke eye contact with him, her gaze dropping back down as she begun to try again, her large fingers fiddling again with the chopsticks. </p><p>“Like this, genius” Cayd says again, but this time he braves putting his hand on hers. Struggling to keep his cool, he tries to rearrange her fingers on the chopsticks. He keeps his eyes solely on his hand on hers, trying his best to ignore the flare inside his chest, his head. </p><p>It was on the tip of his tongue. Every sensor on his body, vibrating, pulsing, longing for the woman next to him. The woman without even a name for him to label her with. The Guardian. The Slayer of the Taken King Oryx. The one who rose the Traveler. This, legend, this incredible Godslayer who sat next to him, struggling with her chopsticks had a certain allure about her.  It had been quite some time for him, to see anyone this way. It had been so long since he’d craved this certain closeness. My wife and son…<br/>
After Andal... after Ikora.... </p><p>“Cayd,” she laughs, her voice smooth like silk, “I’m trying!” She was vehemently grasping at the elusive noodles. He lets go of her hand with a jolt, hoping he wasn’t holding on too long. </p><p>“No,” Cayd chuckles. “It’s me who’s trying to understand how a Godkiller can’t figure out chopsticks.” </p><p>The shop is near close. There’s a couple sitting a few seats away from them. The two strangers speak quietly, feeding each other, their smiles bright. Civilians. </p><p>Cayd-6 is still in his standard guardian armor. Andal Brasks Cloak draped over his shoulders, hood down. The guardian next to him is also in full gear. The mass of her armor made it so one bar stool was between the two. Her armor, a shiny midnight black with gold accents. The light casting a purplish glow on the black, matching her skin. Her raven black hair framed her face with the bottom layer, the rest pulled up in what the ancients would call a warrior’s wolf tail. Fitting for the young wolf, he mused. </p><p>“I’ve almost got it” the Awoken guardian smiles, and indeed, she’s able to grasp more ramen this time. </p><p>Cayd-6 was still a man, despite his exo body. So much so, in fact, that he spent every moment trying to prove it. Many exo’s did, as one might expect when you have a human conscious uploaded into a robotic body. It was his greatest insecurity, and his greatest asset. In the field he was mechanical, a living weapon who could turn pain off. He’d had his arm ripped off, his legs destroyed, and survived without having to be resurrected. He wouldn’t bleed out. But a human conscious remembered the human body. And so it was that the Exos were made to be as flesh like as possible. In order to prevent one from rejecting their new machine body for as long as possible, they needed to eat human food, they needed to reproduce, they needed to be, well, human.<br/>
And so Cayd-6 spent all his energy, naturally, deciding whether or not to tell this woman she captivated him. </p><p>His ghost, Sundance, had assured him that he was a person, that a non-exo would see him as such. But Cayd had no idea about this particular Guardian. She mostly worked alone, only occasionally dabbling with a fire team. He’d never seen her express any kind of romantic interest. What were her preferences? Would she even glance his way? And even if she could be interested in an exo, did she prefer men? Would she prefer him?</p><p>He wondered if it was noticeable for non-lightbearers. The Guardian oozed ascendency, the aura from her light was undeniably profound. The way she carried herself as well, made her presence powerful. She was immovable, like a titan should be. It was as if you could stand behind her and be shielded from an otherwise insurmountable threat. But Cayd would rather stand next to her. The tall titan did everything with purpose, her movements graceful and precise. This is what really made it even funnier, to watch the beautiful warrior attempt to use chopsticks. </p><p>Cayd laughs again, sliding a fork towards her. </p><p>“No,” she grumbles, pretending to be offended. “I’ve got it now.”  Cayd looks, paying attention for the first time since he’d been lost in thought. She does. </p><p>“Alright, I suppose six tries isn’t that bad,” he jokes. He wonders if his smile is obvious. How it looks in her eyes, to see his metal face express emotion. It feels nearly embarrassing to him, how much he’s been grinning. </p><p>The two of them had been spending time together quite regularly now. It hadn’t gotten past him that The Vanguard had taken notice, along with others among the tower. Cayd-6 usually worked alone. It was quite unlike him to work with someone, let alone a titan. But he enjoyed her. She was effective, reckless, and brave. Her ghost was quite useful to have around as well. Most of their team ups centered around the Exodus Black AI Failsafe. The quirky AI had named her Captain, and each mission was more fun than Cayd can remember having in a long time. The two had actually just returned from such a venture, deciding to have dinner together yet again. This time, she’d finally agreed to try Cayd’s favorite ramen shop. </p><p>“Alright, it’s on me, as promised” Cayd-6 waves the bartender over. He withdraws his card, Sliding it out between the two of them. </p><p>The gruff bartender grunts. “Sure thing.” He takes Cayd’s money and turns around to ring them up. It takes a moment before he’s back, handing Cayd his card. “ See you soon huh?” he asks.<br/>
“Absolutely,” Cayd replies with glee, viewing his discount for being both a regular and a guardian. The bartender chuckles, scratching at his beard before taking their dishes.</p><p>“Thank you,” the Awoken titan says once the bartender was out of earshot. Her voice like a quiet melody. She was a woman of few words, preferring to let her ghost do the talking most of the time. It was seldom that anyone heard her speak, so Cayd was hanging onto every word. </p><p>The two exited the shop together, side by side, their steps so in synch that it sounded like one person instead of two.  Her left and his left, her right and his right, each leg and arm stepping and swaying at the same time. </p><p>“So....” Cayd said, wresting internally with himself. To tell her, to not tell her....</p><p>The woman said nothing, but let their shoulders brush. Was it on purpose? Cayd had been tired of thinking about her as just The Young Wolf.  It was awkward, fantasizing and longing after a woman without a name. He’d actually come up with a name for her himself. It had happened accidentally when he'd been entertaining his daydreams a bit too long.<br/>
I wonder if she’d let me...</p><p>The two had stopped walking. Cayd hadn’t noticed he’d stopped, but The Guardian had. She turned to face him, the light of the Traveler across her shoulders. The mass shape of it creating a sort of halo behind her head. Her light emerald eyes gleamed. A stark contrast against the dark. </p><p>“Cayd?” </p><p>That’s it. </p><p>“Alura,” He blurts. </p><p>She blinks. Her eyebrow arches. </p><p>“Shit” he grumbles to himself. He makes a throat clearing sound, even though he doesn’t have to, gathering his courage. </p><p>“I mean, I was wondering if I could call you something,” he starts, “I get your whole silent hero thing, but “ he fumbles. He steps closer to her. “I haven’t felt close to someone in a long time.” Cayd puts an arm behind his head and rubs at it nervously. “I haven’t really wanted to, I like to work alone usually. But I’d like to nickname you or something, so I umm know what to think of you to.. since you know.. we are always together...” he trails off at her intense gaze.</p><p>She watches him closely. He can’t read her expressions. Dammit just say it.  “I'm trying to tell you that I like you Guardian,” he chokes out. "Help me out here." </p><p>Somehow they’d drawn closer. An electric pulse in his abdomen makes him drop his gaze to her lips. Her gloved hand reaches out to touch his. His eyes snap back up and blue meets green.<br/>
And with purpose, just as she does everything else with, she leans in and kisses him. </p><p>If Cayd had lungs he wouldn’t have been able to use them, of that he’s sure.  She’s impossibly warm, her lips were soft on the soft mesh of his own. Tentatively, he places the hand not holding hers onto her waist. </p><p>She draws back, ending it as soon as it begun. Cayd can’t think, warm light enveloping his entire being. I don’t believe it, he thinks. That just happened?.  And then another thought,  I wasted so much time… </p><p>“Alura” she says. Still in his arms.<br/>
It wasn’t a question but Cayd answers anyways, tingles shooting through this wires.  She really doesn't miss anything, he muses.</p><p>“Yes, I- could I call you Alura?” </p><p>“I like it” she smiles. Cayd smiles back, and decides he wants to make sure she smiles like that again. And again. Forever. </p><p>“Good,” he laughs in relief, joy threatening to overload him. He can’t remember the last time he was so thrilled. It was a different type of excitement than his missions and hiding his secret stashes gave him.  “Yea, I dunno, I feel like it suits you, you being so alluring and all.” She grins at him, looking away and shoving him gently. Cayd is on cloud nine. He made the Godkiller blush. “So this means you’ll go out with me again right? Like a date date.” </p><p>“You mean not an implied date like this one, and the other twenty times?” she shoots back. </p><p>“So you’ve been counting.” Cayd nudges her again. </p><p>“Not quite.” </p><p>“You do like me,” Cayd says, more to himself than to her. </p><p>“Don’t let it go to your head” she muses back. </p><p>“Since when?” Cayd asks. He needs to know. He wonders how he have been so dense. This woman was just so hard to read. He hadn't had a clue. He’d just been hoping for a chance. He certainly did not expect her to return his affection immediately. He hadn’t expected her to make the first move no less.</p><p>The two fall back into step and continue walking down the path. Nearly all the lights are out, the streets dimly lit as shops and markets all around them close. As they walk they pass by a few other people, heading in for the night. It is nearly time for the Last City to sleep. </p><p>“I always noticed you,” she finally says, “It’s hard not to. I just didn’t quite realize in what way until I found you in that teleporter after the Red War.” </p><p>“That was it for me,” Cayd laughed. “You to my rescue.” </p><p>With new confidence, he takes her hand in his, leading her along the street, happy to explore this revealed connection between them. He wasn’t ready for the night to end. To his delight, she didn’t resist, and let him guide her into the night. </p><p>The two continue quietly conversing, joking and laughing quietly as they stroll  through the park they’d come across. Cayd-6 soaks in every moment, knowing he’s privy to conversation and interaction no one else has been, besides her ghost. The thought fills him with pride. The light from the traveler and the moon make bright silver higlights around the trees. They stop in the center where a large pond shimmers. Even in the dark, Cayd can pick out the fish swimming underneath, causing the water above to ripple slightly. She leans against him and Cayd leans back. They stand silently together. A minute passes. Maybe two. Finally she withdraws from him. He feels a pang at the loss of contact. </p><p>“I should go, “ she says. </p><p>“Alright, don’t let keep you up,” Cayd feins a yawn, stretching his arms behind his head to hide his disspointment. “ I suppose the tower calls for me too.”</p><p>“Do you even need sleep?” She asks. </p><p>“Nope.” Cayd says, “just like to.” </p><p>She shakes her head at him. “Goodnight Cayd,” she laughs.  Ghost appears in her hand. He blinks his light softly at Cayd but for once, says nothing. His ghost, Sundance makes her appearance as well. Cayd keeps his eyes on the titan.  All along she’d pined for him back. Tomorrow he’ll ask her if she wants to hit the Tangled Shore with him. He had some reconnaissance that Petra Venj had asked for the Vanguards assistance with. His job as the Hunter Vanguard eternally annoyed him. The paperwork wouldn’t be fun, but if he had her there with him… But that seemed so far away. He doesn’t want to say goodnight. </p><p>“Hey,” he starts, against his better judgement. She looks back over at him, arching that damn eyebrow again. He heard she slew Oryx with a sword, but he was sure she’d used that eyebrow to slay him instead. “Take me with you,” he tries, half joking, half hope. </p><p>She does.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What can I say, my Guardian and Cayd definitely had a thing. Why else would she try so hard to avenge him?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Interlude 2: "The Dragon Waits"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ever since the Guardian had appeared to help quell the House of Wolves, Petra had found her to be a rather exceptional partner. And later when her Prince betrayed her, Petra would rather have no one else watching her back.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny, its lore, or its characters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Having one eye, in this instance, was a disadvantage. Petra Venj was attempting, once again, to watch The Guardian without being too obvious. She had to stand awkwardly, leaning her weight onto one side with her head tipped slightly, just to see the tall titan within her peripheral vision.  When her Queen had asked her to find a team with the subtlety and skill to slay none other than the last Ahmakara, Petra knew of only one guardian she trusted. Although Petra was quite sure this lethal warrior could do it herself, she was not liking the idea to put her at such risk. And the mechanics of Riven’s nesting place required being in more than one place at once. The ancient dragon had been Taken, and so had become a danger to the Dreaming City and her people. The dragon was no longer a safe secret for the Awoken people to harbor. And a team of guardians, especially one led by the Godkiller, were the only beings that stood a chance against a wish dragon armed with taken power.</p><p>The woman she spoke of was reading intently the terms of the mission Petra had laid out, her ghost floating next to her head. The two were softly speaking, their quiet dialogue fulfilling the silent room off and on as she turned the pages. Petra had also suggested the Guardian put together some profiles of her usual fire team. She wanted the Guardian to have the freedom to choose who she’d conduct the dangerous raid with. It was only fair, and with their previous achievements, Petra wasn’t sure that there would be any other guardians more qualified than them who already worked with the Young Wolf. The slightest inclination of jealousy threatened to creep down her chest and seep into her stomach. She clenched and unclenched her fist to get rid of it, and refocused on the object of her thoughts. The Awoken guardian was sitting upright, her legs slightly apart and her posture perfect. The famous Titan looked like a coiled spring, ready to snap into a fury of action at any moment. Petra took her bottom lip between her teeth. </p><p>The nameless wonder was not wearing her helmet, and so Petra tried to admire her face from her sharp cheekbones to her gleaming green eyes. The Guardian rarely had her face exposed.  Petra supposed she understood. It was like a protective shell, that this soldier had. The Young Wolf had faced trauma after trauma. And for someone still so new to the world to have gone through so much... it was hard to remember that the Guardian was still so young. She had lost and accomplished so much in her short time: facing Crota, facing Orx, and then losing her light, and losing Cayd. Petra had liked Cayd. He’d been her friend too. But she wasn’t so daft as to believe that it was so simple for the other woman. The Guardian had never said, but Petra wasn’t a fool. She knew the two of them had been close, literally everyone with eyes did. And Petra knew the lightbearer had loved him. She wasn’t quite sure how long or even if the two had been together, but it was clear that they cared deeply for the other. And she understood what it was like to lose someone you loved. </p><p>Petra had lost quite a few people. And then she thought she’d lost Mara. She’d been in love with the queen for a long time. Obsessed really. She still was unwaveringly willing to die for her, to do anything she commanded. But it was now less about winning affection from the queen and being seen as worthy than it was out of loyalty and duty now. She thinks the decline in her affections had started when she'd begged Mara to reconsider her exile. Then more so, ever since Mara had revealed herself to be of the living, and not even having an affectionate or validating reunion with her. Petra had finally accepted that Mara would not love, maybe even couldn’t. Not since Sjur Eido if that's what that was. And even if Mara could love, she would not look at her. Of course she'd been relieved and overjoyed to learn her Queen lived, but someone else had finally peaked her interest away from Mara’s elusive gaze.  And so Petra braved to entertain thoughts of this new attraction. She sure had a way of picking them though, because well, perhaps she had even less of a chance here. Peraps her new fascination had begun during their campaign against Uldren. It wasn't right, longing after someone so hurt, let alone a guardian of the Light. So again and again, she shoved it down. It hadn't been hard at first.  All she had was her duty after all. Her whole life to her queen. She wouldn't have it any other way, but she had never quite had someone else. Shed had some flings here and there, but nothing so permanent. So it was tempting, to think that maybe... </p><p>“We are ready.” </p><p>Petra nearly jumped. The Guardian's ghost had floated up to her out of nowhere.<br/>
“What do you have for me?” she said quickly in order to cover her embarrassment. Ghost had definitely caught her staring. </p><p>Ghost spins his shell, “We have a regular team we'd prefer if possible.”</p><p>Petra crossed her ams, motioning with her hand that he had her full attention. She knew the Guardian had worked with a fire team before. However, the Guardian had been the only one to return alive from defeating Oryx. She’d been unable to find the only other surviving guardian from the Guardian's assault on Crota.   The guardians who worked with the Young Wolf on these raid type missions following were inconsistent until recently, And so Petra had picked some exceptionally skilled guardians that had worked with the Reef before just in case. Some she believed could be trusted. She was glad however, that it did not seem like that would be necessary. </p><p>“We charted these up,” Ghost continued at her permission, pulling up holographic profiles. The Guardian herself had turned to watch them. The woman casually crossing her legs, her right ankle resting on her left knee. The fingers of her left hand resting on the table drumming softly. </p><p>The first was a warlock male. The man had dark mocha skin, with curly short hair . His bright eyes were shockingly blue, and his cheekbones sharp. Felwinters Helm listed as his helm of choice. It was noted that he had the “sharpest mind and a photographic memory”. Petras eyes moved slowly, taking in the guardian's information. The warlock wore robes of white and gold.  One phrase in his bio caught her eye. “member of Crota's End fire team under the command of The Guardian,” several other raid qualifications were listed, each partnered with “The Young Wolf or the Guardian”. </p><p>“This is Marcus.” The Young Wolf said. Her cool voice stirring the air.  Petra glanced at her, her senses drinking in the sound. </p><p>“So this is the other survivor from Crota’s End,” Petra said.  </p><p>“Yes, he functions as our second in these sensitive missions,” Ghost is the one who responds, “he wished to join us to slay Oryx, but he was called upon for... something else.”  </p><p>Petra narrowed her eyes at the image of the striking man. His eyes looked kind, but his jaw was set and his mouth a hard line. She wondered if he would have lived should he have gone to defeat Oryx, and accompanied the Guardian into the dark. Perhaps this man was a member of Ikora’s Hidden. It would explain why she hadn’t been able to find him. </p><p>“If you trust him, that’s good enough for me.” Petra says.  The Guardian gives her trademark nod at her, one subtle dip of her chin. Ghost changes the image to another gaurdian. </p><p>“The following have mostly been introduced to us by Marcus, and become our regular team,” Ghost assures. </p><p>The second guardian was also a warlock male, this time Awoken instead of human. The mans name was listed as “Seven”. His skin was light blue and he had short brown hair. Seven’s qualifications were the same as Marcus, minus having been part of Crota’s End fireteam. An extra note stated that he Was a tech genius, the newest member to the team, and his solar abilities were exceptionally strong. </p><p>“Why Seven?” Petra asked. </p><p>“He died seven times on the way to the last city,” Ghost said. </p><p>“Oh,” Petra said, pretending to understand. </p><p> </p><p>The third was a female exo hunter female. “Kelly-01”. She had the same qualifications, but it was noted that she was “faster than the lighting on her staff”. The woman had red accents across her silver face accompanied with glowing red eyes. Her eyes blood colored orbs smeared over with black paint. It appeared she really liked blowing things up, and had an impressive arsenal of heavy weapons. </p><p>The fourth was a titan human male named Leon, which Petra found to be ironic since the Titan symbol was in fact a lion. The man had raven black hair, falling to one side of his face, his eyes were brown and slanted.</p><p>And the fifth was another hunter; another human male by the name of Razi. The man had a rounder face than the other men, thick dark eyebrows, the same colored trimmed beard and tanned skin.  His hair curly and long. </p><p>Both of the last also had the same qualifications, except Razi was an exceptional marksman and Leon was somewhat of a rising Crucible champion. </p><p>“So this is the team you wish for,” Petra nods. </p><p>The Young Wolf answers precisely, “Yes.”</p><p>Petra ignores the nerves awakening, fluttering in her throat. This is business. Her duty. </p><p>“Then I leave you to it Guardian.” Petra clenches her jaw. She turns to orchestrate a message to the Queen.<br/>
“The dragon waits.”</p><p> </p><p>And so the unbridled fury that was the Young Wolf, and her fire team slew Riven, the last wish dragon. Petra let herself breathe in relief, thankful that all of them were in one piece. She questioned if any of them them had accidentally wished for something from the Ahmakara, even though they all knew better than to trust the Riven's twisted trickery. </p><p>But her worries were softened by the scene playing out on her screen. The Young Wolf looked comfortable around them. The six of them affectionately bumping fists and shoving each other lightly in giddy celebration, even dancing around. The ever composed Guardian even joining in. Clearly this was the only time The Guardian was at home: slaying monsters. How fitting. She’d lead her team with furious precision, the team seamlessly and expertly moving around each other, working their environment and exhorting each other whilst abusing the dragon's weaknesses. They had been perfect. The mission had taken 14 hours and Petra was exhausted. The guardians, however, looked like they had expanded nearly no energy, rejuvenated from their victory. Petra hadn’t actually seen any joy expressed from the Guardian since Cayd’s death. It was endearing. Petra found herself smiling wistfully and watching the Travelers Chosen through the mission's camera feed. She wondered when the Guardian had begun to heal.</p><p>Later, the Young Wolf returned to her alone, for the follow up and report. It seemed all was quiet, for now at least. But they agreed that there was bound to be some consequence for slaying a wish dragon, especially one as strong and ancient as Riven had become. This was one raid that would not be publicized, as was the agreement between the Reef and the Vanguard. </p><p>“Thank you Guardian, again.“ Petra smiles at her.  And then, the guardian grins back at her. It’s bright and crooked slightly to the left. </p><p>“Alura.” She says. </p><p>Petra blinks. “Alura?” </p><p>“My name,” the Guardian breathes out, “is Alura. “ </p><p>Petra can feel her heart pounding. Her mind racing to understand that there’s a name to this woman after so long without. </p><p>“You trusted me, with everything,” Alura says, “it's time I trust you with the same.”</p><p>Petra nods, swallowing thickly. “I’ll keep it off channel, to myself I mean,” she manages, beginning to understand. This is the only secret the Gaurdian has to keep. The only part of her that is her own. And now it is hers too. </p><p>The Guardian smiles at her again.  Ghost appears above her shoulder, darting around above them. Petra almost laughs. And then Alura takes one step away from her, then three more, and vanishes. As always, the transmit effects dance and flirt with the features upon her blue tinted face. </p><p>The Gaurdian leaves the Queens Wrath speechless, and with one overwhelming wish. </p><p>Down, down, down in the deep, the whispering bones of the dragon wait, and Petra wonders if it hears her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I like going through the important character's points of view to better establish my Guardian.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Guardian hadn't been alive long. She had stared at the broken Traveler, seen a piece of the struggle that fell upon the people below it, and been subject to the terror of its enemies that waged beyond the walls of the Last City. She'd stared back at the Speaker, straightening her shoulders.<br/>"What can I do?"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny, its lore, or its characters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ruinous Effigy gleamed against her chest.<br/>
The weapon was of shimmering silver and copper polished wood that felt like cold metal.  Half of her wanted to cast the cursed thing away, and another more curious and morbid  part of her wanted to possess, exploit, and use. </p><p>She was essentially holding evil incarnate in her hands. She could feel it. The gun itself was a literal mockery of everything she stood for. She’d long since learned of the struggle between the forces of Light and Dark. She was  born of the Light, and so there had been one view enstowed within her: Fight against minions of the Dark, and all others who opposed the Light and it’s children.</p><p>The Light was a mysterious energy that flowed within her. It flared and dimmed with her very mood and was susceptible to influence from the other energies of the universe. The woman frowned slightly. She had felt the suffocating Dark before. Cold and unrelenting, it was not unlike a withering weight against her resolve. When the presence of the Dark was strongest, it made her sluggish, and only through sheer will or cleverness was she able to perform the way she needed to survive and vanquish who stood in her way.</p><p>The enormous cracked and fractured white orb of the sky had brought the Light to her star system. It had appeared to humanity nearly out of nowhere and began to change the very universe. They called it the Traveler. It’s touch had graced Earth, Venus, Mercury, mars and all the planets and moons with the ability to sustain life. Gone were Venus’ poisonous fumes and rich again were Earth’s resources. How could something with such  incredible power, with such good, be anything else but a God?  It had gifted humanity  a Golden Age, where peoples of all religion and race forsake arguments of old, and crossed planets together. Incredible technology was made and all life flourished. </p><p> </p><p>Then came the Collapse. Texts about the tragic event were hard to come by, but all agreed a cosmic battle had taken place. On the first day the sky filled with darkness. On the second the Traveler fell. The forces of the Dark were unknown and unintelligible, but whatever had happened crippled the Traveler and nearly resulted in the utter extinction and genocide of all life. Then in one great last stand that shook the seems of reality, The Traveler used the last of its strength to banish the Dark. The forces of the two paracausal eneties clashed, breaking reality, time, and space itself. A large human spaceship happened to be closest to where the forces collided, and the people upon it were changed forever. Thrown into another dimension, a paradise of some sort which they called the Distributary, they were reborn as Awoken. Their skin was nearly reflective in some cases, it being either shades of blue, grey, or purples. And their eyes now lit up like candles and reflected like a cat’s in the dark. They were humans no more and would not return to the known galaxy for thousands of years to come. </p><p>The Traveler would do another thing in its last moment as it pushed out the dark, and it was arguably the most important thing. The traveler would create the Ghosts: little robotic yet sentient beings, imbued with it’s energy. The ghosts were to seek out those among the dead worthy of wielding the Light and it’s gifts. These little beings would raise the dead, creating Lightbearers. </p><p>Lightbearers, or Risen, were immortal. They could wield solar fire as if they’d dragged the sun out the sky and could channel lightning through their body. As if that wasn’t enough, they could could also manipulate a mysterious and violent energy known as the Void, or void light. The Risen would eventually become Guardians, called upon to defend the people who could not die and be brought back by a ghost. The deathless would be protectors, peacekeepers, and scholars. They would sacrifice every life for the last of humanity in the name of the Light. This was the way of the Guardian. A champion of the Light. This is what she was, and what she did, ever since her own Ghost had awakened her. She’d been a gasping, shaking, starving thing. Ever since, she’d  devoted her newfound power, strength, and immortality to defend humanity and everything the Light touched.  It had been what she’d wanted. Had? </p><p>The woman licked her lips, rolling her shoulders slightly, clenching and unclenching the fist not holding the trace rifle steady across her legs.  She sat atop a great scaffold of sorts, rusted and broken and high, high above a churning sapphire sea.  It was a miracle the structure was even holding her up, the thin metal she sat on looked too weak to hold something of her mass. The knight was donned in black plates with golden accents. The black pieces of armor took on tones of purple or blue. The hue shifted and changed depending on the shadows interfering with the sunrise cast accross the sky. A horned helmet with a face of chain mail was laid gingerly by the edge near her feet. If someone were to look upon her from afar, they’d see only the black outline of the tower against the sky, and maybe a small glitter from the gun in her hands. </p><p>Waves smacked into the pillars below the structure that held the man-made ruins up. Thunder echoed along with the roar of the water’s rolling waves, sometimes in synch and sometimes not.  It was a pretty scene, she thought, watching lightning snake it’s way over the horizon. Grey and black storm clouds littered the sky, creating a brilliant contrast with the gold and pink light of where the sun peaked over the water. Before her, behind the storm clouds, one could just barely make out the outline of a pyramidal object. It was getting closer. The enormous figure nearly covered half the sky from her line of sight, an ominous shadow behind an otherwise peaceful stormy sunrise.</p><p>A particularly aggressive ray of sunlight caught her eyes at just the right angle and made her squint, causing her to flinch away and drop her gaze. It was ironic, she mused,  that it was so easy to stare the dark in the face, but one couldn’t look if it was too bright. She watched instead, her weapon of Dark, Ruinous Effigy, catch the light along its shaft. Something that which came from the Deep, looked as if it was meant to be out in the light. The armored woman gritted her teeth, frustration creeping into her joints. She was questioning everything now, and she hated it. </p><p>The Light had guided her, protected her, brought her back to life even. The Traveler was humanity’s greatest savior. The giant orb in the sky was a symbol of hope. The God whom had bestowed life to the solar system so her people could grow and prosper. Her god who had sent its emissary, her Little Light, to bring her back to life. She’d risen with nothing but ringing in her ears, a malnourished body, and an unfamiliar angel guiding her to move. She had not known her name, where she was, or how she got there. She did not know if she had a family, friends, nothing. She really had been so confused, so if it had not been for Ghost’s steady voice, she would have been completely lost.  Her past life and all her memories were just... gone. It was like being jerked awake from a deep slumber to find you were someone else, somewhere else. And this new body was blank, terrifying, and hungry.. but.. strong. Ghost was her first friend, her first voice she heard, and even now, despite everything he was steadfast. She could feel him nearby, hidden as he preferred to be when they were working. </p><p>The Guardian was able to derive a small piece of her her past, before she was risen. She’d done a lot of reading on the Collpase to dig for clues about her origin. It had all been done under the guise of education and research, as it was forbidden of a guardian to search for information of who they were before. She was Awoken, which was lucky because it made key details known immediately.  Her light purple tinged skin, green eyes that glew in the dark, and raven black hair gave her two easy clues. One, she was born in the Collapse. She must’ve been on that human ship when Dark and Light collided so long ago, and been made anew. Two, she had returned with half of the original Awoken people to Earth to help its people, which meant she might have been a decent person. This also meant she might have left any relatives or friends behind. </p><p>Her last clue she’d deciphered had to do with how survival had been nearly too easy for her, even awakening like she did. Ghost had found her in Old Russia on Earth, and within the first few minutes that she’d breathed air, she’d been thrown into battle with the Fallen. Yet her muscles remembered combat, and her fingers remembered how to load a gun, and her feet knew how to shift and slide. She assumed she must have been a soilder of some kind. Her shaking hands became steady when she had deflected a blow from a Dreg. Her weak legs moved swiftly dodging a Vandal’s attempted snipe. And her terrified mind became still and sharp as she carved her way through the alien threat. Her new strength as a Guardian made even her starving and quivering body strong. Unwavering. A Titan. </p><p>It had come to her attention that she’d been born of both Light and Dark, at least before she was made a Lightbearer. It was now clear that there was light and dark in all things, and it was now seeming that Darkness was just as natural as was the Light. Such thoughts should be heretical. But it was so. There was a space between the two, such was she learning from Eris Morn and the Drifter and now her own experience. She wondered if her being Awoken made this realization more prominent somehow. Maybe it made her more susceptible to the influence of the light, and the dark. Her current work was putting her at odds with fellow guardians, who were now giving her more of a wide berth than ever before. </p><p>She’d always been somewhat of a loner. At first it was by choice. She’d been trying to figure out her new world and all its rules. Emotional attachment to anyone was overwhelming when she didn’t even know who she was or what the world was like.  She hadn’t even been able to name herself. How could she have a name, when she was born and told what she existed to do?  It didn’t seem like there was any freedom at first.  All she knew was what she was, not who. So a name for herself would have to wait. </p><p>A guardian with no name was odd apparently. She’d got some odd comments from others among her ranks. Thankfully, the vanguard and most of the prominent figures she worked with accepted it.  She’d been referred to as “guardian” which was fine with her. It suited her. She hadn’t had any other purpose. She’d just been a soldier thrown into a war she’d had no say in. With no where else to go, she’d obliged. And once she saw the importance for herself, she did so willingly and with fury.  That fury had mixed her up in quite the predicaments, and it had earned her the title “Young Wolf” and “Godslayer.” Her name was now most commonly The Guardian. She’d earned that. They were calling her the greatest guardian of the ages. She was being compared to Shaxx and Saint-14 and all legends of Guardians. Recently, she’d even been compared to Wei Ning, another legendary hero. </p><p>She didn’t quite like it, as it made making friends hard. It was why she seldom liked to compete in the Crucible. A lot of guardians felt it was unfair to be put against her, and others wanted her on their team only because of her reputation. Hardly any were actually interested in her. She was either treated like a celebrity, gawked at, or ostracized. To be idolized and somehow also be lonely was disconcerting. And it had started too early in her life which made socializing in general awkward for her. She’d hardly been alive at all.. she was not even quite seven years old yet.  </p><p>Still, upon occasion she would try. The only reason she still returned to compete the Crucible was to keep her skills extra sharp.. and to kill when she wasn’t busy. She did this on occasion. Fighting other guardians was difficult, and strange. Killing them was... odd, it felt less personal than killing Hive or Fallen or Vex. She wasn’t usually competitive unless she got pissed off. With that motivation, she decimated her opponents. Without it, she was an average combatant. Either way, killing anything was simply satisfying, and she loved it. When it came to her duty as a guardian, it wasn’t just about protecting people anymore. What a strange and upsetting thought, she realized. She loved her job because she liked to kill. She excelled because she wanted the victory, the thrill of the final kill and to be the last one standing. It seemed she’d embraced some darkness inside her before the dark had even arrived. What did that make her?</p><p>She took a rose colored bottom lip into her teeth, glowing green eyes greedily examining the barrel of the trace rifle. It was almost like the weapon was drawing her in, begging her to use it.  She wanted to, she found herself realizing, she was quite dying to.  Without really thinking about it, she gave in, lifting the gleaming tool which was as shiny as her eyes, and aimed it out onto the glistening sea that raged before her.  </p><p>Vroooooshhh. </p><p>Purple light shocked the stormy skies above the cerulean sea, cutting the air and leaving cold glistening tendrils of something other in its wake. </p><p>She lowered the gun, trying to ignore the satisfaction she felt oozing in her blood. </p><p>The Darkness itself had chosen to gift it to her.  Her gloved hands toyed with the glittering tool in her hands, admiring the contrast. A question played in her mind, over and over. It was the same question she’d had since she was reborn into the world, and in every circumstance she’d experienced since. </p><p>Why me?</p><p> </p><p>Why had she been chosen to be a Guardian? Why did her ghost have to spend eons looking for her specifically when he’d come across millions of dead and worthy living before her?<br/>
And why had she been the one to cleanse the Black Garden of it’s dark energy, and kill Crota the son of Darkness. Crota had been a Hive Knight, a terrible demon who’d killed so many guardians before. It shouldn’t have been possible for her to succeed where others, including Eris Morn, had failed. </p><p>Her light was average, it seemed, it didn’t seem extraordinary like Ana Bray’s Golden gun that left molten pits where it spilled.  So why then, had she been able to slay Oryx the Taken King, killer of countless galaxies and bender of reality. Why had she alone been enough to stop him in the physical plane, and then later, been the only one able to cut her blade into him, and push deep, and deeper, as five fellow guardians lay dead.  Their bodies had been scattered behind her, their Ghosts consumed and shattered. </p><p>Then even later, the Traveler itself had picked her to send a vision to. When the Gaurdians were stripped of their Light by Ghaul in the Red War by his manipulation of the Traveler, she alone had been chosen to regain her light. She’d been granted the title, The Traveler’s Chosen, as a result. She was a war hero. Lightbearers weren’t held to any sort of morality other than their own wills, but still. Shouldn’t the Traveler have chosen someone more noble than her? One who killed out of necessity and duty instead of pleasure.  Surely someone who didn’t greedily slay whatever pointed a gun at her was a better option. Most certainly, there was someone better suited who would not be so willing to waver along the path of light, and look into the dark. </p><p>Perhaps it was the survivors guilt that made her character redeemable. It was immense, and made her humble in way that was inexplainable. It made her keep herself nameless to the public. It made her a woman of few words and not boastful. She preferred to listen where others would speak, and keep her mind unclouded of judgement. And lastly, it made her care.  She cared subtly and quietly about each person, each soul she passed on the street in the Last City. She missed a dead man who had been buried with her heart. Now, she was learning that there were a few others it ok to get close to as well, besides Ghost.  She’d been working on that, realizing she didn’t really want to be a lone wolf quite as much as she had before. </p><p>Instead, the Traveler had probably chosen her for reasons that had nothing to do with who she was, and it was only just because of what she had managed to accomplish. Perhaps it had known she was the only logical choice, that only she had the ability to not waste its vision. While she was proud of what she’d done, she still wasn’t convinced that she was special, no matter what Ghost said.</p><p> There were many incredulous things they had done, just her and her Ghost. Oryx had been a god in all sense and all definitions, as had the energy in the black garden. Others too, had assumed the mantle of godhood, or tried to. Each fell at her feet. It was mad really, it made no sense. Most of the time, she tried not to think about the improbability of it all. The gun in her lap meant that now, of course, she was the one that the other god chose as well. </p><p>She was not the smartest, Ghost was actually much smarter than her. She was not the strongest either. But she was by far the luckiest it seemed. And the one who happened to be in the right place at the right time. There was no other explanation. </p><p>Her luck however, was only for herself. She’d learned that she was not invincible. Sure, she’d died a few times here and there, but she was always risen with the same state as she’d been before she’d become a Lightbearer. Ghost was apologetic, saying he could only raise her to the state she’d been before she became mortally endangered. It meant her body was on the verge of starvation and exhausted. It meant she’d starved to death before Ghost found her. After a death, she was weaker. Her will to persevere was what gave her strength. Where she persevered however, others could not always follow. </p><p>The guardians she’d taken to face Crota... four had been torn apart by Thralls, stripped of their Light by Wizards, or killed by Crota’s blade. Only one man had returned with her, eventually becoming her friend and not just a partner on a one time mission. Even worse, she’d been the only one out of six to live through the assault on Oryx’s ascendant realm. But she’d killed them both. Looking at her fellow guardians mangled and nearly unrecognizable, she had realized it could’ve been her. Maybe should have been. </p><p>Later, much later, she’d discovered she was definitely not strong enough either. Or fast enough. She could not save him. Cayd-6. The Hunter Vanguard was a powerful guardian.  He was charismatic, ridiculous, and she’d loved him. At least she thought that’s what it was. She still had so much to learn. Most of her experience was in combat, not human interaction. Yet she knew she cared. There was a hole in her chest that still bled sometimes. It had been two years since the exo had died in her arms. “This isn’t on you,” he’d gasped out, the literal light behind his eyes flickering. But it was. She wasn’t invincible, she wasn’t enough to protect him. It didn’t matter that they’d barely discovered their affections for each other. He’d left multiple treasures behind. The Vanguard dare had caused him to leave multiple trials for his killer, which she carried out and retrieved their rewards. They hadn’t been left for her. She only had one thing he’d personally left her with. He’d given her a name. She closed her eyes, inhaling deep. Selfishly, she’d kept it to herself until recently. </p><p>Uldren Sov took him from her. So she took the life of the exiled Awoken Prince to make it even, reclaiming Cayd’s gun from him. Not able to bring herself to use it, she kept it safely locked in her quarters. The memory hurt and confused her. Uldren had been defenseless, on the ground at her feet, and she’d put a bullet between his eyes. She was glad she did it, but it had felt pointless. It didn’t make her any less heartbroken about Cayd. It wasn’t satisfying like she’d imagined. She knew it hadn’t been Justice. </p><p>Petra Venj had actually helped with that more than any other, including the distraction of her duty. Her friendship with the Commander of the Reef was a blessing she hadn’t known she’d needed. The woman had helped her on her quest to avenge Cayd, having her own motivations after all Uldren had done to her people, but she’d cared for Cayd-6 too. Even after the deed was done Petra had been kind and helpful, often sending her messages to make conversation or check up on her. It hadn’t been like that before. The first time she’d met Petra she’d been so duty driven and focused. The Queen’s Wrath had known her for business. The striking woman had regarded her suspiciously, and with interest.  Now that they’d bonded, the suspicion had disappeared from Petra’s demeanor and been replaced with warmth and trust, seeking out her company and conversation. The Guardian was still trying to figure out how to do that, but Petra was patient. It seemed she was also just as unsure of how to be mixing duty with connection.</p><p>The Guardian had made a fire-team too, and she was proud of that. Constant missions together made them comfortable and closer faster. While she was afraid to lose one of them, she didn’t want to give up what she’d found. In order to show her appreciation, and to make another step forward at this whole relationship thing, she decided her fireteam should know her name, and then Petra. She decided she wanted to be more of a person too besides a guardian. It felt like another way to honor Cayd. She still didn’t want everyone to know, it was much too personal. This way was much better. Seeking out companionship and camaraderie was suiting her better than sticking to her lone wolf ways. She liked herself more like this than she had when she’d gone on her rampant search for revenge. It was disappointing she’d had to see it through in order to come to this conclusion, but she didn’t regret it. She couldn’t. </p><p> </p><p>A soft whirring sound vibrated somewhere overhead. Thankful for the distraction, The Guardian turned her head to see a small and black pyramidal shape zip down from the sky and hover below the ground some three hundred feet away. A glowing orange energy dipped down from it, touching the ground, and then it was still. Waiting. </p><p>“There’s one now,” Ghost’s striking voice pierces the silence.  He appears over her shoulder, closer to her face than she would have liked.  She barely keeps herself from jumping in surprise. </p><p>The woman gets to her feet, securing the horned helm to her head. The veil of chainmail clinks gently as she moves it into place. Glowing purple eye slits burn behind the metal veil. The Guardian lifts Ruinous Effigy up, holding it so that the rifle’s nose is aimed at the sky with her right hand. </p><p>Ghost doesn’t have a face, but he doesn’t need one for her to interpret his discomfort. Working so closely to the darkness had taken their toll on the both of them. With each encounter, Ghost was terrified. She knew he could feel the darkness pulling at his Light. It was something that she should be feeling too, like before in places that met the Deep. She did not feel the same now. She hadn’t felt suppressed or sick from the Dark since... well... she’d met it. </p><p>On their mission to get closer to a pyramid Eris had found buried in the moon, it had gone wrong. The pyramid itself had pulled them inside of it. Ghost had suddenly been possessed by the Darkness and it had been using him to talk to her. Ghost’s normally gentle and caring voice  had been cold and cruel and it had scared her more than when Ghaul had stolen her light. She’d been desperately racing through the dreaded pyramid, trying to find a way out, and a way to get him back. It was the only thing she actually was afraid of now. She didn’t want to lose him, or anyone else she’d come to care for. </p><p>The Pyramid had made her battle ethereal forms of Crota, The Fanatic, and Ghaul, using the events to insult the Light. It had been using her trauma to get to her, but she had managed to keep herself collected enough to defeat each one. She had breezed through them, despite how terrified she’d been without Ghost, and despite reliving the battles with some of her worst enemies. The entire time she’d used the same thought for motivation, “I defeated you before, I will do it again.” 

At the end of her path, the Dark had presented some sort of orb to her.  After she’d touched the artifact, she’d been transported into a vision of sorts. She’d been alone, without Ghost, and come face to face with something that looked like her, talked like her, but wasn’t.  It had made her skin crawl. The two of them had been standing in a garden, hundreds of black triangles in the sky behind the false presence. </p><p>“We are not your friend.” The Guardian shivered as she recalled her own voice speaking to her. “We are not your enemy.” The body language of her copy had been friendly, unthreatening, approach her with its arms out. In a show of desperate bravado, unwavering like the Titan she was, The Guardian had closed her hands into fists and stepped forward. Weaponless, on the edge of a cliff, without her Ghost, The Young Wolf was ready for the end of it all. “We are, your salvation.” The real threat had been in the smile, in the eyes of the thing that looked like her. She’d been ready to die her final death, but then the unthinkable happened. </p><p>The Darkness had let them go. She and Ghost had been pushed out of the pyramid, safely returned and untouched.  She had not felt the influence of the Dark since, and wondered why Ghost still did. His bravery was inspiring, and it made her feel like she should be more afraid, but she wasn’t. She was still afraid of the Darkness, but morbid curiosity was starting to creep over that fear, as was a desire for more power. She rolls her shoulders and turns to Ghost. </p><p>“Are you ready, Little Light?” </p><p>Ghost shines his light brightly on her face. Underneath her helm, she raises one perfect eyebrow at him. </p><p>“Not this again,” he groans. Every once in a while she’d call him Little Light. He claimed to hate it but she could see that the nick name was growing on him. Now, it served as a little joke between them. In a small way, it served to calm each other down before a heavy battle. </p><p>Only recently had they been able to start joking again. Their relationship was not the same as it used to be, and was in the process of repairing. A few months ago, they’d been in a rougher place than they’d had ever been before. Trauma had been following them for quite some time. At least now, in the face of the arrival of the Darkness, she felt like they were slowly becoming close again.</p><p> The Awoken woman worried that it would change again because of their current path. Ghost was clearly uncomfortable with it, where she was fascinated. With the help of Eris Morn and the Drifter, they were attempting to learn about the Darkness, and perhaps use it against itself.  She felt it necessary, as did he. That was just about all they agreed on for now. She hoped it was enough. </p><p>The gift in her hand was proof of the danger, the intrigue, and the advantage.  The trace rifle decimated her enemies with delicious ease. She loved it. Its powerful beam would turn some enemies into orbs of void energy upon their death, which she could use to drain the life force of her opponents, and take it for herself. Or she could smash it, causing a small explosion around her.  She was forbidden from using it in the Crucible or in Gambit against other guardians, as the extent of its power was unknown. </p><p>Standing upright on the top of the tower-like structure, she must’ve been at least one hundred feet above the ground. The Guardian and her ghost regarded the small ship of darkness ahead where it hummed above crates and cast an ugly shadow against the concrete of Titan’s Rig. The once blue planet of water seemed murky with the aura from the shadow behind the clouds. The broken and run down scaffolds, buildings, water towers and pistons that made up humanity’s base had not even recovered from the Red War. It was probably going to look even worse after this, if anything was to be left. </p><p>From Io, Saturn’s moon, to Mercury and now the planet of Titan, the Pyramids of The Deep were arriving. The threat was growing closer.  As they closed in on humanity, the Darkness was attempting to talk to them. It was puzzling why they were all not on top of a second Collapse yet, and so the only thing to do was to reach back, and find out. Only Drifter’s tech could harness and manipulate such energy these ships sent out, and only Eris Morn could interpret it. That made her the muscle. With a click she cocked the gun of evil. Once again, it seemed the entire state of the galaxy depended on her and ghost. </p><p>“Let’s go.“  The slayer of Gods, real and fake, leapt off the rusty metal, her armor activating its lift before she hit the ground, causing her feet to land lightly. Her armored toes made surprisingly soft thuds as she sprinted along the asphalt, leaping over crates and ledges. The Titans movement was surprisingly graceful, and so fluid that it seemed as though her armor weighed nothing. Indeed, It was a second skin to the woman it encased. The Guardian stopped below the little piece of Dark that floated above. It was still quite large, but it was a pebble compared to the mountain in the sky. </p><p>“Transmit prepared,” Ghost says. It materializes into her waiting hand. “Let’s hope we don’t have to do this ourselves... again.”  </p><p>She nods. There are other guardians nearby this time, and she hopes some braver ones will come to their aid. Most guardians wanted nothing to do with making contact with the Darkness, unless they were directly ordered to by Zavala. The guardians were spread thin, and so help was not guaranteed. Sheathing Ruinous Effigy for a moment, she takes the transmit in both hands, slamming it into the ground directly underneath the littler Pyramid. </p><p>The Drifter’s rough and sleazy voice crackles into their coms.<br/>
“Okay hero, lets be good guys.” She nearly smiles. She never thought she’d actually like the “rat” as Eris called him. </p><p>Ghost disappears, retreating as she prepared for battle. She wondered who would pick up on her transmission this time. All beings were hungry for the Darkness, trying to take it for themselves to use or worship. The real threat however, was another force. Savathun, Oryx’s sister was trying to prevent them from communicating with the Dark altogether.  There must be a reason why she’d revealed herself in any way, from taking over Ory’s scattered Taken, to doing her damn best to prevent them from hearing the messages of their greatest adversary. It was only a matter of time before the Witch’s scouts picked up on the commotion, as would anyone else. </p><p>The Titan stood ready, one woman army with infinite lives.  Another guardian, a hunter on their sparrow drifted into her vicinity. He nodded at her.  She waved a thank you to him.  Her rader on the HUD of her helm signaled the approach of yet two more guardians. Good. It seemed as though she would have more help than usual. </p><p>Just in time. The ground before her began to spark with digital light and patterns. Vex. </p><p> </p><p>“Fight well,” Eris Morn graced her ears through the coms. The comment stirred her vigor. She felt that Eris was misunderstood by many, and had always really liked working with the dramatic woman. The Guardian wasn’t sure what it meant, but she felt that Eris was somewhat of a kindred spirit and worthy of respect. The Hive expert was intriguing and The Guardian often worried about her. She found herself always ready to help the sorceress, and always wanting to check up on her. Ikora had once asked her to give Eris Morn “whatever she needs.” Even now, the Young Wolf wanted to make sure she kept true to that promise. She refused to let anything happen to her. It was even more dire now, that the odd and aloof woman was so important to the fight against the Dark.  Eris Morn hardly left her mind anymore. </p><p>The Guardian raised Ruinous Effigy, aiming it at the vex who began to materialize. A single round from a goblin’s laser whizzed by her head.  A smile formed underneath her helm as she sidestepped effortlessly away from the following barrage of fire. She danced among the enemy, picking up their motes of dark. </p><p>The middle frame of a hobgoblin is crushed with a flaming violet fist. The void light from her blow explodes, seeking more victims and attaches to multiple ads before detonating. The void explosions play off each other like dominos, spreading along each enemy that gets to close and kills them in purple blasts. A splash of it hits a Minotaur, but it’s only enough to break its sheild. An easy fix. She dodges it’s melee and leaps upon it, smashing her left knee into its chest and firing Ruinous Effigy down into its head. In a sweeping motion, she kicks off it as it falls to the ground and disintegrates. The Guardian slides, spraying the rifle in an arc whilst picking up the orb generated from the Minotaurs corpse. With planned precision, she smashes it into the middle of a spawn point. The blast kills all newly arriving Vex from that spot.  She almost laughs. There was nothing but the fight in front of her.  She does what she was made to do.  If it were only always so simple. </p><p>On the edge between the shadows of dark, at the end of where the fading light from the sunrise reaches, the Guardian slays the Taken and Vex.  She stands victorious, nodding at the few guardians who had helped her. All of them turn to watch the small triangle depart, having delivered its message. </p><p>“... make sure you watch your back, no one else will..” the Drifter is blabbing into their channel. She blinks, having not been listening. </p><p>“I will.” Eris Morn’s response is immediate, and confident.  The Guardian feels an odd warmth swarm into her chest directed at the woman who had subtly become quite important to her. </p><p>“Me too.” Ghost claims resolutely. He appears much too suddenly by her head again, but this time, she doesn’t mind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I intended it to be. Oh well. We have our first look inside the mind of our main hero here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Seed is Planted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eris was most certain that paracausal forces were going out of their way to keep her alive. She hadn’t exactly met anyone who shared her technical burden, until she met Her. The Guardian, who recklessly and bravely avenged her fire team and later, literally put Eris’s nightmares to rest. The Titan had helped her at every turn, going out of their way for her. Eris quietly acknowledged that she’d do anything to keep her safe, just in hopes of repaying the other woman of course.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny, it’s characters, or it’s lore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Breathe in, out, and back in.<br/>
Eris Morn repeated the mantra in her head, forcing her breaths to become steady.  She held her side with one arm, trying desperately to quell the bleeding.  With her other, she gripped the sides of the black wall, steadying herself herself as she ran from the unrelenting Taken.  She’d simply had one misstep, a rock in place where it shouldn’t have been, and she’d slid right into a round from an Acolyte. One step later, she’d found herself somewhere else entirely different from where she was supposed to be. </p><p>The world around her was blue with hues of sapphire’s and greys and blacks, and translucent white. She hid among black pillars and limped along stone floors. Floating islands of rock scattered the foggy blue and black sky, some of them blowing by in vicious wind. It was dark, there was no light source. It was like being in a room with the curtains drawn in. </p><p> Taken energy oozed off the floors and glimmered in the air. Wherever she was, it was home to some of Oryx’s scattered army. Lately it was becoming more and more clear that the taken were becoming organized. A power was rising. Eris frowned, at the unsettling thought. She was in another realm, an ascendant plane of some sort. The better question, was who’s? She had a small inclination of the answer, a tiny creeping suspicion. It made her heart race. Eris stumbled, catching herself just barely before her face met the dusty ground.  With horror, she realized she’d slipped in her own blood.  Her familiar and distinct hatred for the Hive washed over her in a wave of heat. The wound was just above her left hip, and it had missed her kidney by several inches. She was lucky. The Acolyte’s shot burned, and Eris worked harder to quell the bleeding. </p><p>As she was no longer a guardian, the ambush of Hive had been enough to overwhelm her.  Thankfully, one hundred years spent in the Hellmouth under Crota’s nose made them no match for her stealth. She’d been able to lose them quite quickly, especially with the aide of her sorcery, which was in fact, the only reason she was alive.  Now that she’d managed to get herself randomly teleported to this terrible and other reality, she’d most certainly have to deal with Taken. How invigorating, she thought, I  must keep moving. </p><p>Eris set her jaw, peaking up around the side of the wall she’d stopped in front of.  The coast seemed... clear, but she was no fool. There were Taken there, waiting. She could sense them. She needed to get to the Cradle which was unfortunately back on Io and not here. It was apparent that she figure out how to get out of this plane. She was needed. Something was wrong on Io, the Hive were more erratic than usual. It was most likely due to the arrival of the Darkness. It had come at last in the form of the Pyramidal ships. There was something else though, some spike of energy that called to her, something significant that lay in wait inside the Cradle. 

Her eyes scanned the floating rocks, scanning for any other option than the straight path in front of her. There was one rock, that stood still enough, and more of them, leading around to the other side where she needed to go. A shortcut. </p><p>Drip. </p><p>Drip. </p><p>It was so quiet she could only hear the sound of her labored breaths, and the blood seeping from her side, dripping off a pouch on her belt and landing on the stone at her feet. </p><p>She couldn’t make that jump she realized with distaste. Not with her wound.  The only way was through. </p><p>Summoning her strength, she cloaked herself in shadow to be harder to detect. It would not be enough. Still, Eris began to limp forward at a remarkable pace. </p><p>The sorceress made it a whole fifteen feet before the air around her began to shudder and shake. Black glimmering orbs appeared around her.  She limped faster, if she could just make it behind one of those rocks, she could have cover... </p><p>Whoosh. </p><p>With sounds like screeches mixed with shockwaves the Taken soldiers manifested into existence. She felt the presence of Thralls closing in on her. The Taken sprayed their fire wildly, attempting to pinpoint her glitching shadowy figure.  A few knights nearly managed to burn her with their fire grenades, but she found those to be easy enough to dodge. If she kept moving they would not hit her. </p><p>Blue shots from Taken Acolytes’ rifles grazed past her, one even nicking the raised fabric on her shoulder, just slightly cutting into her skin. The impact jarred her, breaking her spell only slightly, but just enough for the enemy to surround her. There were so many.  With a shout Eris nearly tripped as the claws of a thrall slashed at her ankles. She whirled around with surprising agility, her heavy black cape swinging around her in an arc. She stretched her arm out and burned away the Taken Hive at her heels with a well placed rune. </p><p> Eris turns back towards the pathway, her breathing turning more ragged by the moment. She was so close... A Knight cut her off from seemingly out of nowhere. The massive Hive creature screamed at her, it’s head twitching and shoulders swarming with Taken energy. It’s six eyes burned with white fire. Despite his looming 10 feet tall appearance, and raised blade, Eris was not afraid.  How could she be? She had been dead longer than this Knight had been Taken. She had seen horrors that which could not be conceived by the sickest individual. She smiles. </p><p>The Knight’s blade did not touch her. As Eris moved to dodge, the air warped around her, and she back stepped into a sandstone wall.  Righting herself, blinking in confusion, she spun to take in her new surroundings. The Taken were gone and she found herself in a canyon with a blue energy sweeping through cracks in the stone ground. The rocks at her feet were lightly covered in grasses, which grew more lush in some areas. The sky was blue and partially cloudy. The canyon like landscape she’d appeared was familiar, and she instantly felt relief.  It was unmistakable. Somehow she had been teleported back to Io. </p><p>Grunting, she began to make her way along the cliff side. This made things much easier. She was close now.  The ascendant plane she’d ended up in hadn’t been an accident.  She’d thought it was due to her pursuing the Cradle, but it was apparent that something was keeping her from it, and something had cast her out. Another force was trying to interfere with her journey.  She gritted her teeth. It meant she was not safe. She had to hurry. </p><p>A sudden shift in the wind made the hair on the back of her neck rise. She paused. The entire world seemed to go still for just a moment. There was a profound presence, yet it was not a threat. It was a surge of light energy and something else she couldn’t put a name to. Something had manifested nearby. She breathed in, closing her eyes. Her coms were cracking. She thought she heard her name. No... she thought. Not something... someone. She almost found a smile appearing across her pale lips, and another feeling... annoyance and worry? </p><p>“Guardian,” Eris tried the coms, “Is that you?” </p><p> </p><p>There was only one person who’s presence she could pick out from afar like that. Only one who could shift the energies so much so. The Guardian was here, no doubt coming after her.<br/>
Brave, reckless, and fool, all were adjectives that Eris could describe the nameless woman by. She was not some damsel in distress, she didn’t need the help and she hated putting anyone at risk when her work was extraordinarily dangerous and unpredictable. Yet somehow, this woman always seemed to get involved with the impossible circumstances no matter where Eris went. As much as she knew it was most likely Ikora or Zavala sending the Guardian her way, it was still ... comforting. She supposed that was the word for it. It was comforting when the formidable warrior crossed her path. The Guardian did not seem to view her as a madwoman or some obscure and invalid outcast like many did at the Tower. Still, Eris did not want to have the Guardian in danger because of her, which was really all that seemed to happen. Actually, it was what happened to anyone near her really. She hated it. This was why she worked alone. </p><p>The rush of adrenaline had worn off and Eris found herself almost hoping someone else would answer. She wobbled for a moment and realized she had probably lost a little too much blood. </p><p>“Eris? Thank the Traveler! You’re needed back at the tower, Zavala sent us!”   </p><p>Sure enough, the all too familiar voice of the Guardian’s Ghost crackled over the coms. </p><p>“Of course he did,” Eris grumbles, her thoughts now confirmed.  “I’m moving toward the cradle,” she tells him, “it calls to me.” </p><p>Every bone in her body told her to go. It was the source of all the hell breaking loose. There she could find answers to the distress, to the arrival of the pyramids of Dark. To the Hive’s crazed behavior, and maybe even about the realm she’d escaped from. </p><p>“It? “ Ghost asks, urgency in his voice. “What is It?” </p><p>“The Hive are frenzied,” Eris said. She spotted a swarm of patrols already, barely having made it out of the nook she’d arrived in. She creeps behind the brown rocks in an attempt to sneak by.  “There’s an energy source in the Cradle. The Hive are attempting to reach it. The Taken are here. Cut through them and meet me there,” she orders the pair. “We must  get to the source of this interference.”</p><p>A shudder in the ground cuts whatever Ghost was gonna say next off and Eris was once again swung into the Taken realm. </p><p>Insufferable.  “Ghost,”  Eris tried, “Guardian!? Young Wolf can you hear me!?” Her cry isn’t answered and once again Eris is stuck calculating how to proceed through the realm.<br/>
This time there was no way to hide.  The Taken were waiting. Immediately they swarmed. While their numbers were large,  the mindless minions remained predictable.  This made the threat manageable enough. The thralls were the first and immediate threat, twitching and multiplying. Their grotesque shadowy forms were closing the gap towards her at an alarming rate. Eris had looked death in the eye before. Even wounded, they were no match for her. They fell away before her like leaves in the wind. Guardian or not, it makes no difference. Eris weaves through the Taken, avoiding the snipes from the acolytes and fire of the Knights. She hadn’t lost the agility and grace of a Hunter class guardian. That, and her learned skill of magic is what saved her. </p><p>Eris managed to fight her way to an entrance of some kind. High glossy black walls gleamed high above her line of sight. For one breathless and much needed moment, the Taken were not snapping at her heels like rabid dogs. She placed her hand on the enormous door, feeling for any Hive seals to break. She needed to get inside. She needed just a minute to gain a foothold, to remove whatever incantation kept trapping her here. Inside she could hide. Out in the open, she was like a wounded deer, lying in wait for the wolves. </p><p>Sweat dripped down her face, dripping into her eyes. She blinked them furiously, willing her magic to work. Faster, faster... she needed to go faster... as the last seal broke under her words, a small symbol carved into the door caught her attention.  It was Hive for Witch. Witch Queen.  Sweat seeped into her uppermost eye.  Furiously she ripped off the soaked veil that covered them, wiping her brow with her sleeve.  With her left hand she began to scan the ruins, struggling to ignore the tremor in her fingers and the terror that began to creep down her spine for the first time. </p><p>There was no mistake.  The door creaked open and with a racing heart, and weak legs, Eris stepped into Savathun’s Court. </p><p>No. No. No. No.  </p><p>Eris struggled to catch her breath. Nausea berated her abdomen. Reality began to blur.  For a moment her hands were scraping along jagged walls, her breaths were ragged sobs. She was trying desperately to wipe blood from her eyes with her right hand, the other blindly feeling in front of her. </p><p>No. No. No. Focus. </p><p> </p><p>She was watching thralls rip a man apart, her friend.  She was clutching the arm of someone else, trying to pull them away.</p><p>There was a Hive Wizard too, torturing someone else.. someone important to her, their face covered in blood.</p><p>No. No. Please. </p><p>Eriana’s  screams flooded her ears. </p><p>NO!!!! </p><p>Her head swam. Her vision was fuzzy.  She stumbled forward, landing hard on her left knee. The ground seemed to melt away into blackness. She couldn’t see her hands anymore. Her stomach came up through her mouth. </p><p>Please,” a voice said. “Can you stay and talk for awhile?” </p><p>“ERIS!!!”  </p><p>She snapped her head up. She was in Io again. The Guardian’s voice ringing in her ears. Blinking away her traumatic flashbacks, Eris struggles to take in her new and familiar surroundings. </p><p>“Guardian,” she breathed, disoriented. Her voice shook. An overwhelming fear for the other woman consumed her. She couldn’t do that again. She couldn’t.<br/>
“There are forces at play here I do not understand!” she forces out, realizing she’s nearly shouting. Hive screeching chill her to the bone and in an instant they’re upon her. She’s talking faster than she can think, having no second to gain her bearings, throwing magic at the hive and beginning to flee. Her only thought to warn the Guardian and her ghost.  “The Hive!-” she tries again but her voice is drowned out by the scream of a wizard. She vaults over a boulder, and ends up tumbling down a steep cliff. </p><p>“Aah!” Eris cries out in anguish. Her injured side takes the first hit, before tumbling down farther... farther. The familiar surge in her stomach that comes with a long drop occurs... a boulder that juts out from the side of the cliff catches her right leg. Eris’s femur makes an awful cracking sound as it hits, her whole body vibrating with the impact. The entire world goes white for a moment. She thinks she feels herself tumbling down further before slowing slightly. There’s another large hit on her left side this time, bouncing her slightly, but her body does not stop. Instead she rolls again, picking up more speed. Tumbling, she loses all senses but the feeling of weightlessness as she rolls like a child does down a hill.  Somehow, she manages to roll to where she’s laying to where she’s facing up. The sky is blue and far too bright. She blinks, adrenaline the only thing keeping her alert. How long had that fall been? </p><p>Her vision is fuzzy with pain, and she fights the urge to vomit again.  Impossibly, Eris Morn sits up. With horror, she realizes she’s looking at her bone sticking up through her pants.  She feels blood trickle down the side of her face. She must’ve hit her head too. Great. She reaches up to wipe it, only to find her left arm and shoulder to be numb. That... isn’t good. </p><p> </p><p>Gasping for breath she looks up and is shocked to see that the cliff from which she fell from is quite far away from where she lay. The cliff must be near one hundred feet. She’d rolled further down a long hill from the base of it, putting a good near hundred yards between her and the cliff that looked so far away now. Improbable. It was a miracle she was alive. It actually should have been impossible for her to survive it.  The armor in her Hunter cloak was completely shredded. There was not a piece on her body that had held up. Her cloak was barely attached to what was left of her shoulder plates.  She thinks it was the smaller boulder that broke her leg that spared her, and the one before that. It had also been the immediate incline of the hill at the base. As she’d hit the ground, it had been an instant transfer of momentum yet again as her body rolled down the hill instead of splattering on solid ground. To land at that angle... it was a one in a million chance. Maybe less. It seemed the universe had made it so that she lived. It was as it always has been. She was not allowed to die. A shattered femur was small price to pay, for her life in theory. Eris was sure there were more things wrong with her than what she could even feel, if her numb left side was anything to go by. </p><p>Distant screams of hive began to grow louder. They started to  make their way down the cliff. They descended, their withering screaming masses spreading down the cliff side like fast spreading mold.  Some lose their grip and began  to fall and splatter, unlucky compared to Eris. Their bodies make sickening crunches, spilling apart as pieces of their exoskeleton fracture. She feels the sound more than she hears it. Some that fell rolled too, their trajectory leading them off to the side instead of towards her. It was utter chaos. </p><p> </p><p>Eris pants, watching the horror unfold before her in stupid awe.  If she stays here she’ll die.  “Ahhhhhhhh!” She cries out in agony, setting her broken leg. She wraps it in a ripped piece of her cloak and ties it as tight as she can manage. She binds it with a seal, her trademark green magic giving her makeshift bandage a green glow. The seal would have to do for a splint. </p><p>Gasping in pain, she attempts to get up. She falls and crawls forward, her right leg a useless, floppy deadweight.  She can sense the Hive more than she can hear them. She rolls so that she can scoot backwards on her butt instead. It must look ridiculous, she thinks. Her thoughts sound like they are far away. It’s almost like she’s watching herself scoot backwards with one leg and two arms. Like a little crab without a leg. Her left side is awkward, and she finds that she can really only use her good leg and right arm to direct herself. </p><p> </p><p> “All channels, is anyone there?” </p><p>Ghost. </p><p>The only sound is her ragged breathing. She cannot speak, all her energy and concentration going to her right hand, which she uses to pull out her side arm with.  Her eyes are on the thrall who have made it all the way down, at least thirty of them and growing. A living waterfall, they race toward her from the bottom of the cliff so viciously that they trip over each-other. </p><p>Her arm is shaky, and she misses a lot, and runs out of rounds before she’s made a significant dent in the pursuing doom. Her fingers struggle to reload in time before the mass of thralls can reach her, but she finds her left hand not quite responding. She drops the preloaded cartridge. Oh, she thinks as she watches it slip from her bloody fingers nearly in slow motion.  </p><p>The closest thrall extents it’s arm, it’s black claws now so near that  she can feel their chill against her face, the air from the momentum tickling the tiny hairs above her lip as she scoots back just enough for it to miss her.  With a cry she uses everything she has to blast the screaming thrall away from her in a green pulse of energy, sending their grey disgusting bodies flying.   She scrambles to her feet, using elevated stones to help her drag her right leg into place. Hobbling, she summons the last of her strength to teleport, as far away as she can see. The Cradle is there, just on the horizon. She can just barely make out the top of a tree?  Somehow, she knows that is where she needs to be. </p><p>“Eris, say something, please!” It’s Ghost again, but she’d already tumbled through her unstable portal.   She falls through, looking wildly around, and is relieved for the air to be still.  Dazed, she rises, having all her weight on the leg that is still working for her. Her right leg makes a scuffling sound as it drags against the ground. The air shifts and her being is warmed by a presence of light and power.  The Young Wolf. She’s here.  Erin’s shoulders immediately sag with relief.  She limps toward the center below the tree that has apparently encompassed the Cradle. </p><p>A familiar voice in her head repeats what she already knows. </p><p>In the Garden grows a tree of silver wings, the leaves ruin, the bark disaster....</p><p>Who is that? Where has she heard it before?</p><p>“Eris?” The softer, smoother voice of the Guardian echoes in her ears. The Guardian’s voice sounds strained, and vibrates in Eris’s skull. Has her voice always done that? Eris feels lightheaded again, falling forward again. She’s unable to catch herself this time. The ground shouldn’t seem so soft. Eris opens her mouth to respond, but the air cracks and glimmers as Taken blights appear. She swallows her call in a strangled gulp, looking wildly around from where she lay. Eris spots a tangle of silver roots. Desperately she crawls to them, wriggling her way into the mass to hide. The Taken appear at her heels, but the Young Wolf gets there first. </p><p>From her hiding place, Eris watches the The Guardian decimate the Taken with a ferocity she’s never quite seen before. The woman moves deliberately, her armored boots kicking up dirt where she leaps and sidesteps and slides. Each movement seems precise, and forceful. There’s a surprising grace to the warrior, for she  moved so quickly and lightly. The only thing that made Eris actually believe the armor that other woman wore weighed anything was the force that she exerted in her fists as they smashed through a hobgoblin’s frame or the shoulder shove that send a Knight flying. </p><p>She fought savagely, tearing though the Taken as if they’d personally hindered her. Perhaps they had, Eris thought, maybe the Gaurdian was as frustrated she was. It did not yet occur to Eris that the Guardians’ feral aggression was born of the desire to protect her. The Lightbearer did not let the Taken near her.  Ferociously, The Young Wolf defended Eris’s hiding place like the Titan she was. She was an unwavering force, a human shield wall that was as forcefully offensive as she was defensive. </p><p>The Gaurdian did the likes of which Eris could only dream of now. It was only at these moments where she really missed being a guardian and the power that came with it. Usually it was only the longing for her fallen fire team, and anger at having ever been made a guardian in the first place. For it was the only reason she’d suffered such loss and was still alive when she maybe shouldn’t be.. especially now. </p><p>Eris blinked lazily, her vision going out for a moment.  Fighting the urge to pass out again, she focused again on her mantra. Breathe in. Breath out. Her breaths  were slower now, and she couldn’t figure out if it was at the relief she felt from the Gaurdian’s presence, the rest she’d been granted, or if she really was about to die anyways after all that.  Wait... how much time had just passed? Eris tilted her head. It seemed quiet. Having her concentration resumed, Eris scanned for the Gaurdian through the roots, and for any sign of fighting. Where was she?? The Guardian was nowhere in sight, and Eris could no longer feel her presence. What the- </p><p>An explosion blew the Young wolf back into existence, the armor’s lift blasting right before she crashed into Eris’s little sanctuary, her boots skidding along the ground. The Young Wolf paused for a moment, looking around seemingly to confirm her surroundings, and then pushed herself right back into the fray of more appearing Taken.  Then she was gone again, vanishing into thin air. </p><p>Dammit. No no no.  Eris would not have this. It seemed Savathun was messing with the Gaurdian as well as her. That would not do. If she could just interrupt Savathun’s hold on the area...  In her near delirious state, Eris could not find it in herself to be afraid. </p><p>Boom. </p><p>The Guardian appeared in a flurry of gunshots, landing into a roll. The Taken followed her, their auras appearing alarmingly fast, and everywhere at once.  Undeterred, the Guardian aimed true, instantly beggining to cut the newly arriving forces in half. A suspicious hand cannon gleamed the color of blood in the woman’s right hand. It was amusing in an odd way, that the Guardian still favored the forbidden Crimson.  </p><p>Eris found herself both admiring and envying the Guardian. Such power and grace... She was mesmerized, her eyes watching the black and gold armored Titan become encased in lightening. The Lightbearer leaped into the air, impossibly high, and finally destroys the commander of the attacking Taken battalion, an elite Shrieker. Unmistakably, it was an eye of Savathun. Strangely, she finds her mind feeling less cloudy by the moment at the death of the Eye. It comes with a price, she realizes. The pain is back in near full force.  </p><p>The Cradle!!! She clambers to her feet, remembering her purpose with renewed vigor.  The three remaining Taken instantly attempt to retreat at the death of their commander, moving to dissapear and Eris turns away from the scene toward the glowing center underneath the canopy of the tree . It does not go unnoticed by the hobbling Eris, that three lightning quick shots ring out behind her. She knows the Guardian did not allow the few the mercy.  </p><p>There’s a whooshing sound AGAIN. And Eris whirls around nearly tripling. She’s just in time to see the Gaurdian look in her direction, and dissapear. </p><p>No. No. No. Eris turns back and rushes toward the glowing patch of light.  The tree’s odd branches spread like fractals over her head. An odd opening in a perfect circle casts its light down into the center of the canopy, and Eris’s blurry vision makes out a Hive barrier as she closes the gap. With a careless wave of her hand she dispells it, revealing a formless mass of black and white energy within. </p><p>The thing that called her here. An answer. A mystery. Against all thought, and reason, she listens to its call. Eris reaches out, and touches it. As soon as she grabs the swirling mass of energy, it takes shape.  A small red oval with swirling white and black translucent energy forms in her palm. </p><p>...of the seeds we do not speak .. </p><p>The voice again. </p><p>Her strength is generously gifted to her, she can stand better now. She’s not healed,  but she feels... steadied, at least enough for what she needs to do next.  Eris closes her eyes, and reaches out for the presence of the Gaurdian she knows so well.  </p><p>Of course the woman has managed to get herself into another perilous situation. The game of cat and mouse with Savathun was over.   Eris would not let the witch have her.  </p><p>“Enough!!!” Eris shouts, and uses the lended strength from the power in her hands to rip the Gaurdian from Savathun’s realm, and banishes the witch’s ritualistic hold upon the Cradle. The interference is gone.  Having carried out her goal, the seed relinquishes it’s power. The feeling of support is ripped from her limps and Eris sinks to one knee, the good one, and attempts to hold off yet again on emptying her stomach right there in the  light. </p><p>Heavy footsteps close in and Eris looks up at both her savior and her damsel.  The Titan towers over her, a formidable sight in her black and gold plate. The Mask of the Quiet One sits upon the woman’s head, it’s horns casting odd shadows over either side of her. Unwilling to look meek, Eris forces herself to her feet. She tries to remain steady, but her legs wobble and even her good leg nearly gives way. </p><p>“You’re hurt,” the Guardian and her ghost speak together in unison. She stretches her hand out.  </p><p>“It’s nothing,” Eris manages. She puts her hand up, discouraging the Guardian’s movement. The thought of needing to lean on someone, even like this, It was too much. The Guardian respects it, instantly becoming statuesque, her head beginning to scan around them, weapon at the ready. Still, she steps closer, ready to catch the other woman. </p><p>“But this...” Eris continues as if she doesn’t notice, “this is something.” She motions toward the seed, which was now floating above the lit up ground  on its own.<br/>
“A Tree of Silver Wings. It grew from the last place the Traveler touched before it left this world.“ the Gaurdian’s head snapped toward her at the admission. “The Darkness was drawn here, as the Hive is drawn to the Darkness.”  Eris breaths deep. It was so hard to explain when she felt like any moment she might pass out. </p><p>“These eyes of mine,” she attempts to put it into terms of gravity. “The things they have seen,” she reaches back toward the seed. A weird sound like whirring machinery occurs and her arm is quite forcibly jerked away. It scares her, and the Guardian, who has instantly manifested closer to her, one arm protectively in front of her, and the other a blue fist crackling, and aimed at the seed. How had she moved so fast? Eris fought the uncomfortable feelings forming at the sight of the Titan raised to her defense, for the first time wondering how much of the Guardian’s earlier fury was a result of her being in danger. It was silly. She must be very out of it.  Really, it was a miracle she was keeping it together. The hundred years of being forced to be calm and calculating was really useful at the moment. </p><p>“What was that,” Ghost asked. His voice as unnerved as Eris felt. </p><p>“Something that does not want us here,” Eris says, remembering to respond. </p><p>The Young Wolf does not relax. </p><p>“Darkness.” her Ghost spits. </p><p>“No, but it is of the dark.” The knowledge has been granted to her, and she hates that she does not quite understand. </p><p>“It has to be you, this time.” She says, ignoring the fluttering worry that crawls into way into her chest. The Guardian had once again solidified her involvement with immense unknown forces. Eris was going to lose her mind at this point. It should be her that takes the risk. She was the one who went looking. Not the benevolent woman before her. Eris toyed with her green ball of energy she’d absentmindedly formed.  The Guardian didn’t deserve this, but the seed had made it known to Eris. It was for the Guardian, and not for her. </p><p>Wordlessly, the Young Wolf dropped her defensive stance, the taller woman tilting her head slightly to glance at Eris, before reaching out, and claiming the seed. It seemed to absorb into the Guardian the same way an engram would. The thought is troubling.  The two women regard each other for a moment, and Eris feels the ground flip. </p><p>She’d passed out, but the Gaurdian had caught her. The woman had only needed to use one arm to do so, her large hand placed just between Eris’s shoulders with her gauntlet supporting the rest of Eris’s frame. Three green eyes lock onto the glowing purple eye slits of the Young Wolf’s Helm. Eris feels a slight rush of blood come to her cheeks, perhaps in shame and, something else that feels simply warm. When was the last time she’d been so close to someone? The last time she’d been touched? Her foggy mind allowed her this pondering. 

As she comes to,  Eris realizes she nearly feels fine. Ghost was healing her. His light recedes off of her body as the healing takes effect. With a start, Eris remembered she wasn’t wearing her veil, and that the other woman could see her eyes without the cover. Discomfort immediately replaces the warmth she felt from the Titan’s light. As if reading her mind, the Guardian gently helps her regain her footing, before letting go and taking a polite step back. Quickly, Eris reaches into her pocket and pulls out her veil before fastening the black fabric over her eyes. She glances at the Guardian’s helm and wishes she could see her face instead.  </p><p>“...Come in!!” It is Zavala’s voice on the coms.<br/>
“We hear you Zavala!” Ghost chimes excitedly. </p><p>“Have you found her?” Zavala asks. </p><p>“The seed breaks through the interference,” Eris interrupts, needing to feel more in control of the situation. </p><p>“Eris.” Zalvala is surprised, but the relief is palpable through the coms. </p><p>“Zavala,” she greets her old friend softly. </p><p>“Report back to me,” he says, resuming his curt commander voice, then adds, “Both of you. Our transmissions may be compromised.”</p><p>The Guardian hasn’t stopped watching her. Eris decides she really hates that she can’t tell exactly where the Guardian’s attention is. The glowing eyes of the mask did nothing to give her a clue. Her only hint was where the chin of the helmet was pointed... except it was hard to see through the chain mail veil. The Guardian was resolute,  silent, waiting, head facing her direction. </p><p>“Let’s not keep him waiting Gaurdian,” Eris prompts, proud that her voice is steady. She limps forward. Even having been healed, her side and leg ached. She would still need to recover. She ignores the gaze of the warrior, ignores the warmth she feels knowing that the Guardian seems to care about her well being, and most importantly ignores the sense of longing. She did not do friends, not really. She didn’t have any more room for anyone else to care about, even though this woman was relentlessly making it impossible to not watch out for her. She transmits herself to her ship, ignoring the pang she gets knowing that one time, she would have used her Ghost.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eris is a badass and impossibly alive. Also we help her so much as a Guardian and she’s always saving us so I think it’s safe to say they care for each other. I think she’s quite depressed and lonely, and I notice how she pushes people away. She wants to be close to people and valued but she’s too afraid and doesn’t understand how to be. Anyone can see that. She just needs a hug man</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Interlude 3: A Suspicious Prospect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I’m gonna change your mind about me, Sister.” </p><p>He couldn’t see her face. Actually he’d only ever seen her face once or twice. She seemed to always keep the aggressive helmet in place.  The Mask of the Quiet One’s eye design’s bled into the shadows underneath the chain veil. The glowing purple slit of the helmet burned into his own steel gaze. Of all the guardians to be after him....</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny, it’s lore or characters</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was a man of suspicious demeanor. His heavy clothes, deep lines in his forehead and fidgeting hands gave him an unfriendly appearance. He looked like he spent many hours in alleyways and even more crouched over small fires. He looked like he was a survivor, and that’s exactly what he was. He frequently gambled with his own intuition, and it had not failed him yet. He was alive today for a reason, he was always careful, and always thinking ahead. He’d learned that if you had an inkling or intuition, it was unwise to ignore. He was getting another nudge by his instincts, one centered on the possibilities regarding a certain Guardian. As always, he intended to listen to his gut feelings.</p><p>The Drifter watched closely the events unfolding before him. Saladin’s Young Wolf slaughtered all four members of the other Gambit team within seconds of each other. "HAHAHAHAHA!” He cackles, praising her, “I'm sorry. Were they saying something? 'Cause they're DEAD now!" 

 This Guardian was certainly something else, and this was only the third match of Gambit she’d ever played! The woman was terrifying with a bow and a hand cannon the Drifter was absolutely sure she wasn’t supposed to have. She did not lose a signal mote, and did not die once. She was carrying her entire team, unflinchingly and terrifyingly slaying his Taken and attacking Hive. </p><p>A second impressive member of her team, a Warlock in white and gold robes, casted a Well of Radiance at the feet of their summoned monstrosity, allowing the two other Guardian’s to hack sword strikes plummet bullets into the Taken Wizard.  Even more notable than his prowess, the Drifter recognized Felwinter’s helm atop his head. Now how had the Warlock gotten their hands on that..... </p><p> The Guardian, returning from her successful destruction of the other team, joined the assault on the Wizard. Of course, she gets there at just the right time to strike the final blow. With one great swing she cuts the Primevil’s head clean off with a void sheild throw.</p><p>They had won. The other team had not even  summoned their own Primeval yet, stayed by the constant successful invasions by the Guardian. The losers, and the winning team were then promptly transferred out of the arena and back to the Tower. </p><p>“I forget you’ve killed a Hive God or two.”’ The Drifter said upon her arrival, his voice a mix of amusement and awe. He’d dug up that she’d made herself part Hive too, and ascendant no less. Something about stealing Crota’s soul. It wasn’t public knowledge, not everyone would like to acknowledge that their hero had delved pretty deep into one of their most hated enemies tactics, else she might end up like Eris Morn. Whispered about, misjudged, and mistrusted. The Drifter though, was not so easy to fool, and not so quick to judge. He admired one thing and one thing only, survival.  </p><p>She glanced at him for just a moment, removing her helmet, causing black hair to fall against her cheeks. The woman then reached up and adjusted a ponytail at the back of her head which held the top layer of her hair up. </p><p>“Then you’d be the only one.”  It’s her Ghost, who speaks, which immediately annoys him. </p><p>“I wasn’t talking to you, “ The Drifter snarks back.  The Guardian ignores him and turns away to face her teammates. She’s accompanied by the Warlock, who stays close to her, in tune with her movements.  The rest of her team waves their goodbyes and goes their separate ways, taking turns to shake hands with the loosing team. The Guardian and Warlock acknowledge them as well, offering nods and waves.  They too, turn to leave, their ghosts rising to float above lifted hands. </p><p>The Drifter notices things, like how the Warlock and Guardian seem close, and how perfect this Guardian would be for what he needs.... </p><p>“Hey wait a second,” he calls out to her.  She and the Warlock lower their hands in synch. </p><p>Neither of them speak. The Drifter felt a slight wave of irritation creep against his jaw at her silence. It seemed she was trying out that strong, silent type thing. Wasn’t it a bit... much? </p><p> </p><p>“I didn't know Cayde well. Knew I didn't like him.”<br/>
The Drifter had touched a nerve, which may or may not have been what he wanted. The Guardian took one step towards him, her left foot making a heavy thud, a solar flare from her right fist flashing up her arm. The Warlock had one hand on the same arm, and with a start the Drifter realized she might have intended to strike at him.  

Her movement had been subtle, but the fire that flared up had not been at all. It had also been done alarmingly fast. She was a Titan, and the heavily armored woman should not have been able to shift quickly enough to catch him off guard. The Warlock had been just as quick, to place his hand on her as she moved. The grip on the woman’s bicep may have just been intended to calm her, other than stopping her. No matter, the Drifter was fine not knowing. Either way, the desire had been made known. He understood, in a way, and in no way did his face betray his surprise. As intimidating as her reputation made her, he wasn’t worried. Yet. </p><p>“Easy there,” he said. “I’m offering condolences, but I know what you’re planning on doing.” </p><p>She doesn’t say a word, but the Warlock does. “What is it to you?” He says. His voice is smooth and deep, echoing from behind his famous helm, and the Drifter infers the man’s race from it. The Warlock is most likely of Ancient African decent. He might look into this guy too, especially if he’s running around with such an infamous helmet.</p><p>The Guardian’s glare is legendary. The Drifter focused back on her, removing his attention from Warlock for a moment. She could have killed Uldren with a look like that, he thinks. He meets her green eyes with his own. Her eyes glow brightly in the dim lighting of his space, causing a deep contrast with shadows across her cheekbones. The vibrancy of her eyes and the dark of the room give her a gaunt appearance. The desolate look upon her face reminds him of himself, long ago.

 She looks like Hell, he thinks, although a beautiful one. He wasn’t impervious to her obvious allure. The Guardian was quite easy on the eyes. It had been some time since he’d noticed such a striking woman. He supposed her tall height and mass of her armor would make her less appealing, maybe even intimidating to a lesser man’s point of view, but not to him. In a different lifetime, he might have attempted to act on his acknowledgement, whereas now he had no interest other than to look. Back to business. </p><p> </p><p>“I can't tell if that look in your eye is determination… or rage. Word is, you and Cayde had a pretty good partnership. That's rare from what I could tell, that guy preferred to work alone. Maybe he liked how you pulped a Hive god or two. I know that's why I like ya.” </p><p>He pauses, her stance had relaxed a little. The Warlock waits with her, his face hidden. The woman’s expression had turned more thoughtful as she listened to him. She seemed to regard him with more curiosity than anger.

The lighting in the room brightened slightly, making the hollowed look from her face recede some, but the fierce and empty look in her eyes did not disappear from her lavender face. The Drifter did not like the awkward, heavy silence, and so he opened his mouth again without a prompt. </p><p>“Listen, don't let his death weigh on you. Somewhere out there, someone's got a bullet with your name on it. Same for him. Same for me. Nothin' we can do. So go out on your terms with a gun in your hand and loot in your pockets. Haha! Only way to live. The Derelict's always in orbit if you wanna… vent.”</p><p>He hopes to instill the idea in her head. If she really was the right material, then he needed her to like him, and Gambit.  If she was disobeying the Vanguard to go chase some pointless revenge, then it meant she wasn’t as serious about her Vanguard creed as it might seem. That was exactly what he needed. Someone who didn’t mind bending the rules or boundaries. Someone who would step outside of them completely. He needed her if she was like the way he thought she was. If she wasn’t blinded by her Traveler’s light and annoying robot. </p><p>For a moment it looks as if she were going to say something to him. Her pink rose lips parted slightly, before sealing, her sharp jawline becoming more prominent. The Titan turned away, her Warlock in synch, his white cloak and her black mark gliding gently behind them. </p><p>He frowns, watching her walk away.  She’ll come back, he thinks, they always do. He rolls his shoulders, shaking off his offense from her silence. He was starving anyways.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shorter chapter but I thought I should introduce  the Drifter before we get into more arrival stuff.  This was my first interaction with him in game so I thought to include it as an important point in the Drifter’s early impression of her. And yes, I sided with the Vanguard as the summary implies. No I don’t think that choice is lame haha :) or that either choice is right or wrong but more on that later.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Forgotten Memory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“We didn’t run,” the Lightbearer stated. On cue, her ghost transmitted the enormous head of the Gate Lord into view, it’s jagged metal scraping along the Queen’s newly polished floor as it fell carelessly from where it appeared.  The mass of it blocked the path to where the monarch sat upon her throne. A slain gate lord was unheard of, and yet there on display in its improbability, lay a decapitated head of one. The head was proof that one had been slain by the guardian from earth. Quiet gasps from the Queen’s guard whom were stationed on either side of it filled the air, and Uldren Sov’s expression twisted in disbelief and displeasure. Mara smiled.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny, it’s more, or it’s characters.</p><p>I’ll edit this later, so for now I apologize for run on sentences and other weird errors lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Queen Mara Sov stood silently beside the taller woman.<br/>
It was the fourth visit the Guardian had paid her since she’d revealed herself to have survived from Oryx’s assault that occurred some years ago.  Every three weeks, the Guardian returned to her, attempting to break  the Taken’s hold upon the Dreaming City, courtesy of Riven’s wish granting. Upon the Dragon’s death, a final wish had been granted to none other than the Witch Queen Savathun. Mara was sure this was an attempt by the Hive monster to slow her plans down. The curse was insufferable, and as of yet there was not an end to the three week cycle where Dûl Incaru, a daughter of the Witch Queen, returned relentlessly to lead the Taken assault that would try to ransack her city. In retaliation, each time the Hive Wizard was felled by the Guardian, who now currently stood at her side.  Today, Mara could feel the restlessness and frustration creeping into her mood.  She decided to let it. </p><p>“Tell me how my brother died.” </p><p>“He did it for you. Everything he did was to save you.”  </p><p>Mara ignored the Ghost. His comments were becoming increasingly aggravating. The opinionated little thing had no right to criticize her the way he’d been doing. It even had the audacity to attempt to be kind to her now, as if its other sayings were nonexistent. She scoffed internally. She would hold her tongue for now, but not for long. She wasn’t sure how many more remarks about her queenship she could handle. For now, her main attention was on her current question that was being dodged, and she would not have it. </p><p>“My brother was strong, clever, devoted, but suggestible. I knew my plans put him at risk. I was not surprised to feel him die.”</p><p>“He killed our friend.” The Ghost’s voice was darker, a hidden rage seeping into it.  Mara watched the Guardian’s hand’s tighten ever so slightly on the grip of her bow.  A tingling sensation occurred in Mara’s mind for a moment, as if she’d forgotten something. The feeling passed. </p><p>“Yes. I’m sure you miss it.” Mara continued flippantly. “Were you satisfied with your revenge? I wasn’t.”</p><p>The silence from the Guardian was expected, and utterly disappointing all the same.  The energy in the room spiked, and Mara was sure it was taking all the Gaurdian’s self control to not release lighting from her fingertips. Mara’s reference to the fallen guardian being an “it” had struck a nerve. Mara did not need to see the woman’s face to know what her expression was. The woman gave it away in the slightest stiffening of her shoulders and the rubbing of her fingers on the wrapped grip of her bow.  If Mara had been any less perceptive or any less sensitive to the palpable power that exuded from the Lightbearer, she would’ve missed it. This impressed her.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me, Guardian,” she finally broke the silence, deciding to try a different tactic, “Did you enjoy it?” </p><p>To her annoyance, the black and gold knight still did not respond, her helmeted gaze seemingly somewhere far off, watching shadows dance along the sharp and imposing design of her throne.  </p><p>“When you killed my brother, did you revel in it?” Mara spoke again, her voice giving way to no hint of emotion, the sentence sounding more like a statement, even as she gave away her true question.  She found herself wondering why it was so important to get a rise out of the statuesque warrior. </p><p>Finally, the Guardian turned toward her, and Mara swore the purple slit of the Guardian’s helm burned brighter. Her shadow encompassed Mara, and she found it ironic. The Titan towered over her in height, but in every other way, Mara thought she looked small. A little thing, unknowingly a pawn of greater forces, including her own.</p><p>The Young Wolf stared her down unmovingly, as if Mara’s words were of little meaning. As if Mara had stated something so casual as the weather. </p><p>“Yes.” She said the word like it was so simple. An unapologetic fact.   </p><p>Mara turned away abruptly, swallowing her immediate reaction in favor of another.  Her brother’s death had been... unfortunate. An effect of the crossfire of her plan that she had put into place. That was all it was. She would not let it rile her so. </p><p>But the Guardian once again had the audacity to surprise her.  Did Zavala no longer teach his Titan’s any tact?  Perhaps her movement had been too insightful to the other woman, for her Ghost then spoke. </p><p>“It was quick, and his last thoughts were of you.”  The little piece of their Traveler was blinking his light slowly, perhaps to create a gentle effect to calm the growling tension. Though her back was turned, she could tell by the refraction of light brightening and dimming at the blue floor beneath her feet. She wondered how her brother had looked, deluded and defeated, calling out for her while the Guardian put a bullet in his skull.</p><p> </p><p>Even so, a small part of her that she would never allow time for which to dwell, Mara wanted to kill the woman who took her brother from her. She wondered that if she ever were to be on the deadly end of the Young Wolf’s gun, how she would escape the Guardian’s wrath. It seemed nothing could. She needed the Guardian as a weapon in her arsenal, and as such she could not entertain the ideas of how to avenge her brother. As she’d stated... revenge wasn’t satisfying in the least. She was much better than that savagery. </p><p>Another part of her wanted to kneel down, and reminisce about the dark haired man who had been with her since she took her first steps as an Awoken, and before, in another life, when her skin had been pale and magic did not bleed from her fingertips.  The largest part of her however, the part that made her herself, caused  her emotional thought train to only briefly reveal the charged ideas from her subconscious before neatly tucking them away into the deep corners of her mind.   </p><p>The slaying of the dragon who had once been her companion was an abrasion against her concentration as well. Of course this was carried out by the Guardian herself.  Yet another reason to dislike her valuable asset, despite the fact that the order had come directly from Mara herself. The list of casualties and sacrifices of the careful game of chess she played grew ever longer. </p><p>The Guardian had managed to be  her biggest... she wondered for a moment to form a correct word for her... nuisance, she supposed that would do. On the other hand, the Guardian was sure way to reduce margin for error. This was what was important. </p><p>Again, she found herself having to work harder to stay focused, her thoughts returning to her brother; an ordinary moment when he’d placed himself beside her as she looked down from where she was seated upon her throne. A normality, an event that was as constant as the turn of the planets. A default occurrence that always happened, always was expected, now shattered. Perhaps she had taken it for granted. </p><p> </p><p>“Fool,” Mara murmured in reminiscence. And then even softer, “loyal and sentimental fool.”<br/>
If the pair heard her moment of weakness they did not show it, and even the Ghost made no remark.  </p><p>The Guardian’s Ghost was a curious, ridiculous  thing. She really hated it, if she were to put her feelings honestly. Really, she wasn’t too keen on the ghost’s chosen either. The two did not seem to view her position of royalty as a reason to hold back on their own opinions or actions. The Guardian seemed to respect her enough, but it was clear that they did not view Mara as someone who could order them around. With Ghost’s snarky and disrespectful criticism and the Guardian’s aloofness to her, it was quite clear that they were only helping her because they wanted to, or saw it as mutually beneficial for the people they wished to protect. Mara was unused to the dynamic, having had servants all her life, and so it was a steady procedure to remind herself that the two were among the most useful tools at the ready, a near form of insurance. It was amusing, to think that they thought they were acting solely of their own interest. </p><p>Yet, there was something else about the Guardian  that added to Mara’s dislike. It was a sort of familiarity about her that Mara could never quite put her finger on. The boldness, and strength of the awoken Lightbearer were annoying in a different way she couldn’t place. She didn’t know this gaurdian, yet when she’d first met her it had felt like she was seeing a ghost, without having the slightest inclination of why. She didn’t remember the woman from before, despite her being Awoken. Perhaps in the beginning of Awoken life she’d passed her by. Perhaps even before that, they’d crossed paths on the ship. It was a whisper in the back of her mind that she couldn’t decipher. </p><p>While it was excellent that the Guardian’s prowess was of use, Mara still found herself feeling inconvenienced every time the Guardian was involved.. which was of course, all the time.  She wondered if the Guardian really had any idea what was coming. In her experience, she was the only one who did. Even Eris Morn could certainly not see what she knew to occur, and the things yet to be done. </p><p>Mara’s current residence was lit with the nebulas and stars of space.  The bright floors and pillars were of the architectural design of the Dreaming City. The shadow cast from her figure was glossy and formless on the shiny floor. Her footsteps made clicking sounds as she walked, needing to move from the glowing well at which she and the guardian had been standing over.  Her throne world, though she would never admittedly call it as such, had a literal throne that was elevated from the floor level to overlook the beautiful room, and strategically placed centered to the long hallway that which resides at the entrance. Elegance, was her thing, even like this.  Several pieces of furniture resided in view as well, including her favorite piece, a giant amethyst table. A geode slab that glittered darker and lighter depending at which angel it was gazed upon. </p><p>Having had a moment to regain herself, the most driven, logical part of her mind began to guide her. Mara Sov focused on the present, she had a duty to fulfill, a destiny, and she had to be careful how she played her cards.  She ended her walk at the other side of her massive geode table. </p><p>“Honesty, Guardian,” she says at last, absently turning a page of notes upon it, “is often as dangerous as a lie.”  </p><p>The Guardian doesn’t comment on her cryptic sentence. Mara wonders if the women thinks it’s a threat. Maybe it is. </p><p>The plated guardian tilts her head slightly to the left. Her right hip sticking out slightly, somehow accentuating her femininity even in the heavy armor.  “Is that all your Grace?” Her icy voice sounded purposefully bored. </p><p>Was she.. goading her? For once Mara wasn’t sure. The Young Wolf was imposing, blue light illuminating her silhouette, and something in the air changed. A certain stillness engulfed Mara, and the nostalgic feeling the other woman gave her clicked. For a moment Mara saw someone else.  The fearless demeanor, the bold pose, and the mass of the Guardian  had her pause, tongue caught in her throat. </p><p>The Guardian was unaware that for Mara, a certain tension in the room had choked her, then engulfed her completely with the sense of time reverting, flipping her stomach upside down as her mind was yanked into the past. For an instant, a collage of memories bombarded her, a blur of snarky laughter, large hands and broad bare shoulders, and then just one, clear and full of pain that stabbed at her heart. </p><p>Mara was remembering another woman in place of the Guardian before her, even taller actually, standing before her, head and hip cocked the same way.  </p><p>“Don’t fret. It’s a simple expedition. We’ll be back before lunch,” the voice is deeper and echoed within her chest until it was as distant as the fleeting memory. </p><p>Mara’s breath catches, and she turns to pace along the floor in front of her throne. </p><p>“See to it that you return in three weeks, we must keep searching for a way to break the curse on my City.” Mara’s own voice sounds harsher than it has in a long time, surprising herself. The Awoken Queen’s mystic voice is strained, commanding a subject not sworn to her. Nevertheless, the Guardian nods, her signature dip of her chin, and turns to saunter out of the Hallway. </p><p>Mara finds herself stuck on the wide plated shoulders, the graceful gate, and the twitching fingers that never stray too far from the bow upon her back, and the gun at her hip.  </p><p>The bow. </p><p>Mara blinks, trying to get the other image that appears out of her mind, shaking her head now that the guardians’ back is turned. </p><p> </p><p>She matches the sounds of her own pacing to the Guardian’s footsteps.<br/>
Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. </p><p>There was a whooshing sound and the Guardian was gone.</p><p>Mara kept pacing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thought I’d do a little piece on Mara. I like her, even though she’s all mysterious and thinks she’s the only one able to do anything lol. Sorry for the delay of uploading, I’ve been quite busy with life  and school. Next chapter will be a return to our lovely Guardian, and bring focus back to the current day plot!  If you don’t know who the Guardian reminds Mara of, then you missed some cool lore. A hint: my guardian is also a giant woman who kicks ass so I think it’s a fun little touch to add.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A Wish Granted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Be gentle with her,” Ghost whispered somewhere by her ear, although unseen. “She is more fragile than another guardian.”<br/>Alura nearly nodded before she remembered the subject of Ghost’s statement had no idea of his presence, or murmured words.  She searched the shining blue eyes of the woman before her, fighting to keep her  nerves in check. She’d slain Gods before, she should not be feeling her stomach turn so.<br/>“You’re sure?” The Guardian asked her.<br/>The Queen’s Wrath nodded. In the pause that followed, the Titan set down her jacket.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny, it’s characters, or lore  </p><p> </p><p>Warning: this chapter is a little longer than I realized, and it is a little spicier than I intended! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her hands were still soft. After hundreds of years of fighting with fists and fiddling with the grips of knives and spears, to even cleaning an impressive arsenal of firearms, Petra Venj’s hands were still nearly unblemished.  Perhaps she was shielded some by the strong aura of magic that clung to her more abundantly than many other Awoken, the same magic that allowed her to perform telekinesis with limitations. </p><p>Her long, delicate fingers carefully laid out silverware upon a large mahogany table. She made sure to line up the fork and knife perfectly perpendicular to the two silver plates. Once she was satisfied, she carefully adjusted the violet placemats underneath, making sure there were no creases. As for the napkins...<br/>
“Oh the napkins!” Petra hastily muttered to herself, spinning around to look for them.<br/>
The blue skinned women wore her peoples’ custom colors in the form of tight black leather pants with plenty of tactical pockets, and a purple  fitted blouse that flattered her curves.  She was without her usual top shawl, and unarmed. Her dark auburn hair was down for once, resting on either side of her shoulders.  It was a rare moment where she was not out working, or armed to the teeth and knee deep in scorn bodies. Tonight there would be absolutely none of that.  </p><p>Upon fixing royal purple napkins to her liking, Petra lit a small candle at the center of the table for casual ambiance, or so she told herself.  All her preening and scrutinization of her presentation would no doubt go unnoticed by her expected visitor, but she prided herself in it all the same. It wasn’t too often that the Awoken women had any visitors. She didn’t have too many people that she’d consider a friend, much less many close enough to offer such hospitality to. Lately it was becoming a rarity for even herself to set foot in her little home within the Reef.  </p><p>After Uldren had practically burnt the palace to the ground, Petra had decided she needed a new refuge altogether. In the very unlikely case that someone were able to repeat the disaster, Petra wouldn’t have to sift threw ash to find any surviving belongings. Her much more lowkey safe house would have to do.  </p><p>The Queen’s Wrath allowed herself one final glance in the mirror, adding just a smidge more lipstick to her plumb colored lips, and then decided to give into the urge to conduct one final survey of the table as well. The dining room was not very large, and it was obvious that it wasn’t used for much more than a quick meal, but Petra was satisfied with the turnout anyways. </p><p>The room was full of the smell of roasted meat and spiced vegetables that resided covered and warm within the oven, along with a fruit pie for desert. The walls were equipped with several light fixtures that gave off a soft and golden lamp light. With the addition of the candle at the center of her table, her barren kitchen and den looked much more inviting. </p><p>Besides her table of four chairs, Petra had one small black couch, a coffee table made of glass, and a plant near a medium sized TV. The walls were white and smooth. There were two rooms, and two baths down a hall that was directly to the left of her entrance.  It was a small and humble residence compared to her original quarters, but when she was constantly on the move and working, there wasn’t a need for much else. Really, Petra found herself thinking, beginning to pour two glasses of red wine, it looks as if I’ve barely moved in at all. </p><p>The quality of the furniture and appliances, such as the pretty crystalline glasses the red wine splashed in, were the only hint of her former and more lavish living style. </p><p>Her bedroom was simple as well. There was a bed with purple sheets and black comforter with only three decorative pillows. The only thing fancy about it was the canopy style frame, and high quality silk sheets. There was a large black dresser as well, and a small closet that actually harbored a secret room where she kept an emergency store of weopanry. On the opposite side of the hall, the guest room was bare and empty. </p><p>Petra’s phone began to light up, emitting a small buzz as it did so. At the precise moment that the light of the screen caught her eye, Petra’s heart skipped.  Taking deep breaths, she braved checking the glowing notification:</p><p>I am here. </p><p>Satisfied her hands remained steady, although her movement was  jittery, she managed to type out: </p><p>Great. I will fetch you. </p><p>Nervous butterflies crept up from her stomach to her throat, and Petra worked furiously to ignore them, grabbing her coat and promptly exiting her apartment.  She’d been looking forward to this dinner all month long, and had to reschedule several times.  </p><p>Really Petra, she mused at herself,  Get a grip! </p><p>She had met up with her intended guest a good few times before.  At first their communication had been awkward, and although it sometimes still was, they’d been quite regularly conversing and now even shared inside jokes. It was not an assumption to say that the two of them were becoming great friends, but recent events involving looming pyramids had caused a shift in Petra’s normally collected and centered self. Her uncertainty was bringing up some crudely suppressed emotions and ideas that were not quite so friendly. Of course, she thought, locking the door shut behind her, it wasn’t as if she would do anything about that. It was perfectly natural to be feeling this way of course, when you learn the world might end any time. </p><p>Taking an jagged and random seeming route to ensure she was not followed, the woman darted in between passing bodies on the street. One could never be too careful, even amongst her own people.  The street market they’d agreed to meet at was on the third block up, and as she rounded the corner, Petra spotted her intended guest at once. </p><p>She was predominantly easy to pick out because she was the only one leaning against a street light. It was the height that gave her away too, a solid six foot two, even without her armor. Her broad frame was adorned in a black  jacket, and black tactical joggers. The white hoodie caught Petra’s attention as well.  The woman was also toying with an odd shaped green piece of metal, flicking it like a coin. She held it between her thumb and index finger, thumping at it with her other hand.  It was so bewildering, to see the raven haired woman without armor. Petra didn’t think there was any getting used to it.</p><p>Her stare must’ve set off the other woman’s sixth sense, because her head turned, and her bright green eyes found Petra’s blue effortlessly.  The Guardian offered her a small crooked smile. Petra momentarily forgot how to breath.  </p><p>The two met each other halfway, Petra turning back around to retrace her earlier path once they were side by side. She wasn’t a short woman by any means, but her head was still only level with the Titan’s shoulder.  As they fell into step, the Guardian tucked the coin into her jacket pocket. A symbol Petra couldn’t make out carved into its center caught her attention as it disappeared from her sight. </p><p>“What is that?” Petra asked before she could get distracted with pleasantries. </p><p>“This?” The Lightbearer reached back into her pocket and held it out to her.  </p><p>Petra nodded, taking care to not bump into anyone along the crowded street even as her gaze focused on the jade colored coin.  She took the offered metal from the outstretched hand and  turned it over. The symbol changed with each passing glare of light from the shops and street lamps around them. Petra recognized Vex, Hive, Cabal, and Fallen.  </p><p>“Yes, what is this?”  She offered it back to the other woman. </p><p>“A gift.” The unarmored Titan stated. As if that made any sense. </p><p>“Right,” Petra mused, deciding not to pry. She really would never understand guardians and their weird trinkets. </p><p>The woman walking on her right did not catch her tone, her eyes were up, and searching.   Her jawline was sharp, and her high cheekbones had a nice contour to them in the even light.  Petra looked away before the heat from her chest could reach her cheeks. </p><p>They didn’t speak the whole way to Petra’s abode, though the walk only took around five minutes.  The silence was comfortable and Petra expected the Guardian felt the same way.  She was thankful that her friend was the quiet type, for the walk had allowed her nerves to calm down somewhat.   </p><p>Upon letting the Guardian into her apartment, however, Petra’s heart rate spiked slightly as soon as she’d clicked the lock shut. The Guardian removed her jacket, respectfully folding it and laying it on the top of the couch next to the door, and removed her boots as well.   </p><p>Petra followed suit, although much faster.   </p><p>“Everything’s ready,” she called out behind her as she made her way to the kitchen to check that the food was still hot. It was. </p><p>“Need some help?” the melodic voice came from somewhere behind her. </p><p>“Don’t be silly,” Petra called out, “sit.” </p><p>She heard the other Awoken woman obediently settle into one of the chairs at the table.  </p><p>Carefully, so that she would not drop or spill anything,  Petra served them their dinner, the two of them enjoying the quiet once more. The Guardian sipped at her wine experimentally, still new to any sort of alcoholic drink.  Petra had learned the first time that she came over, that while she was not the first one to offer the Guardian a drink, hers was the first offer that had been accepted. Upon Petra’s questioning, the Guardian had told her that it was her duty to always be vigilant, and she did not want any substance in the way, as it was frowned upon. To this, Petra agreed, but said that there would not be a more perfect time to try it, should the warrior change her mind. The Young Wolf had made it halfway through watching Petra sip her champagne, before asking to try it.  Her eyes had turned upwards toward the ceiling as she’d rolled the taste of it in her mouth, completely pensive. Petra found herself smiling fondly at the memory.  </p><p>In present day, the Gaurdian was doing the same thing, setting the glass of red wine down, before lifting it back up again, licking her lips frequently.  Petra tried to not look too much at the Gaurdian’s pink tongue.  </p><p>“You like it then?” she broke the silence. </p><p>The Young Wolf’s nod of agreement was  uncharacteristically exuberant. Instead of vocalizing, she took another, larger sip. At last, Petra Venj took a seat across from her friend, and the two began to eat. </p><p>“Thank you, Petra,” said the Guardian, motioning to the table with her left hand. </p><p>Petra wondered if she’d made the room a little too cozy, or if it looked intentionally romantic.  She’d wanted it to look nice, but the candle and the soft light made her feel like the setting was more intimate than she’d intended. Her guest did not seem to notice or be bothered, for she resumed to happily chomp away.  </p><p>“She mean’s that the food is delicious, and everything looks very nice.“ </p><p>Ghost appeared out of nowhere, just above the center of the table, nearly giving Petra a heart attack. She jumped, her knee hitting the table, and caused the Young Wolf’s red wine to slosh. A perfect red drop landed right on the white fabric of her hoodie.   </p><p>“Ghost,” she admonished him, then to Pete’s horror, proceeded to ignore the stain on her stomach.  </p><p>“Your hoodie!” Perta gasped. “The wine will stain!” </p><p>The Guardian looked up, then down at where she’d pointed. </p><p>“Oh.”  She said.  At the same time, Ghost was saying, “Sorry.”   </p><p>They were both smirking at her as she got up from the table, or well, if Ghost had a mouth, she was be sure he would be. </p><p>“You’re not sitting at my table looking like that,” Petra shook her head in disbelief. She hurried to get a damp towel. Guardians were so unfashionable. Really, she  showed up in a hoodie, when Petra at least had the decently to look a little bit nicer, although she was still casual. It would serve the other woman right, except she didn’t really seem to care anyways.  </p><p>“You might just let me soak it, “ she said, running warm water onto her kitchen towel. </p><p>“You don’t need to-” the Gaurdian started.  </p><p>“Nonsense, I doubt you have many civilian clothes anyways.”  </p><p>The Guardian took the towel from her hand and pressed it against the stain, dabbing at it. </p><p>“She doesn’t. This is some of the nicest stuff she has.” </p><p>“Ghost.” The Gaurdian’s voice was suddenly more stern.   </p><p>Petra smiled, noticing the small blush that appeared on the woman’s cheeks. A small needle of hope prickled. Had she tried to look nice? For her? </p><p>Well she certainly did, hoodie or not. </p><p>“It’s not working,” Ghost spun his shell.  The Young Wolf’s lavender cheeks had started to  burn.  Clearly, both Petra and the Little Light were enjoying the embarrassment that was now quite obvious. </p><p>“Alright then, give it here.”  Petra tried not to laugh. She managed, barely. </p><p>The Guardian sighed with relief, stopping the motion with the hand towel.  She wordlessly reached for the bottom of the hoodie, and began to lift up. </p><p>Petra did not think this through.  She was not prepared. There was no stopping her breath from catching somewhere far deep in her throat.</p><p>The Young Wolf’s lavender abdomen was exposed now, revealing hard lines and smooth skin and then.. a black tank top. </p><p>Petra early sighed in relief, struggling to control her expression. </p><p>The Gaurdian handed the hoodie to her, pulling her shirt down from where it had ridden up. Her bare arms were defined, and large. All of her was large. In a muscled and toned way, with somehow plenty of curvature. Petra found her eyes raking over the tall Titan, drinking in the sight. The tank top was quite form fitting, clinging to her waist and chest .. </p><p>“Here,” the Lightbearer said casually, like Petra wasn’t about to lose her mind. Not trusting her voice, Petra nodded and took the clothing item, and turned away, going to prepare to get the stain out. </p><p>A minute or so later, Petra rejoined the other woman at the table. She looked unfazed, helping herself to seconds, and two slices of the fruit pie. It wasn’t fair. Ghost was nowhere to be seen. </p><p>The evening had officially ended, made known by the shadows of the night creeping through the curtains, darkening the room and increasing the ambiance of the candlelight. </p><p>“Thank you for coming Alura,” Petra tried out the Guardian’s name reverently. She was still getting used to it. Unbeknownst to her, the Guardian was as well.<br/>
“Really, I know how hard it is to make time.” </p><p>The Guardian, or rather, Alura, smiled back at her. Petra was still having trouble associating the person before her with the name, when she’d referred to her as her other title for years. </p><p>“I’m glad I could make it.” Her cool voice was soft.  “I have not seen much friends lately.” </p><p>“Your fireteam?” </p><p>“Only Leon. We got a crucible match in the other day. “ </p><p>Petra nodded, pouring herself another drink. To her surprise, the Young Wolf poured herself one as well. She raised her eyebrow, and Alura arched one of hers back. </p><p>“What happened to miss, guardians don’t get drunk?” Petra teased. </p><p>“I thought this was the safest time to try,” she chirped back  “and if I don’t try things out of my comfort zone, I don’t learn anything.“ </p><p>“And how is this going to teach you something?”</p><p>Alura kept her eyebrows raised, “I will let you know after.” </p><p>The two laughed. The Gaurdian had slowly been coming out of her shell. While she was still a woman of few words, once she relaxed she wasn’t so intimidating, and Petra could see the girl who wasn’t wearing the armor. The one who was still struggling to learn about the world around her. Petra could see a noble, funny, wonderful person.  </p><p>The two continued their banter, swapping stories of some fights they’d been in during the past month that they hadn’t seen each other. Petra noticed how both of them were careful not to mention the looming doom that had recently appeared. Petra was well informed enough to know that there was absolutely nothing she could do except trust that her Queen was working on it, and that the woman before her was as well.  She knew the darkness was communicating to them, buying it’s time before making whatever move it was going to make.  </p><p>As if reading her mind, at last the Guardian confessed the reason she’d had to reschedule several times before. </p><p>“I’ve been evacuating Titan.”  She murmured.  “It’s why I couldn’t come until now. “ </p><p>“I heard the news.” Petra said softly.  “I don’t know what to tell my people.”  </p><p>“The people in the Last City are quiet, and others are throwing parties after parties.” The Guardian said.  “When I walk among the Tower everyone is outside, sharing and huddling together. In their fear, they are united more than my Vangaurd.”  Alura’s voice darkened at the end.  </p><p>Petra smiles bitterly.  “The same is here. We are all trying to make the best of what time we have.  Will the gaurdian’s also be putting on the coming Festivals as usual?” </p><p>“Yes, Eva wouldn’t allow otherwise.” Alura said, then paused. “I will stop it.”  </p><p>Petra met her eyes. “How?” She hated that her voice seemed unsure. </p><p>“Any means necessary. I won’t lose anyone else.“ Ghost’s voice echoed in synch with her, even though he wasn’t visible. A chill went down Petra’s spine at the effect. Alura had stopped Crota, and Oryx, broke the Fallen houses, defeated Vex minds and Ghaul... the list was endless. </p><p>“If anyone can,” Petra breathes out. “It would be you.“   </p><p>Petra wasn’t sure what was going to happen. The world could end at any moment for all she knew.  The wine had warmed her considerably, and gave her the conviction she needed to make a bad decision.  If the Guardian really could defeat the Darkness, and save all of them, then it would be wonderful, and she would have so much more time.  But if she couldn’t, Petra found her face physically contorting at the thought of losing her. If the the Guardian fell, they would all surely follow suit. There was no doubt about that. </p><p>“Are you alright?” Alura’s concerned voice sent a thrill though her. </p><p>Petra nodded, standing up.<br/>
“I have something for you. Follow me. “ </p><p>Uncrossing her long legs, the Gaurdian rose from her chair, falling into step behind Petra as she took several strides to the coffee table in the living area.  </p><p>“Actually, wait here. I forgot to bring it from my room.”   Petra frowned at the coffee table, bare except for a single coaster and remote. Annoyed, she hustled to her bedroom and left the statuesque Titan standing in the middle of the room. </p><p>She’d wrapped the gift in a grey silk cloth, carefully folded and tied neatly laying upon her bed. Grabbing it, she returned and presented it to the lionhearted woman who took it excitedly, her face erupting into a crooked grin. </p><p>“I wanted you to have something. A charm of sorts, to bring you luck.” </p><p>The Guardian removed the wrapping paper to reveal a silver necklace with a small amethyst crystal attached.  Although simple, it was elegant in design. </p><p>“Petra,” the Guardian breathed in awe, her grin turning gentle and she admired the crystal. </p><p>“It’s beautiful,” she said simply, “Thank you. “ </p><p>Petra didn’t answer as she was still lost in the way the Guardian said her name.   She watched as the woman put the necklace on, carefully arranging it around her perfect throat.  </p><p>It was getting late, and Petra knew it was nearly time for the Guardian to leave. </p><p>“I don’t expect I’ll see you very soon after this,” </p><p>Alura dipped her head, her pretty face falling a bit. “Not for some time no. I’m going to be working on Mars. “</p><p>“And Io,”</p><p>The Guardian nodded, beginning to dawn her jacket. </p><p>“If you need me though,” she didn’t finish her sentence, the meaning clear enough. </p><p>If she needed her? The notion was ridiculous.  Of course Petra needed her. The whole galaxy needed her.  </p><p>The Guardian turned to the door, her large hand reaching for the touch pad that would let her go.  “Keep my hoodie for now if you don’t mind, I’m not sure what do with it. “</p><p>On the first day the sky filled with darkness....  Petra knew the story well. Now the sky was nearly full of Darkness, and she would watch the Gaurdian leave her home, if she could call the barren place as much, and watch her step out, and maybe, never back in. </p><p>This is what would have happened, or might have, had she not shot out an arm and grabbed onto the Guardian’s wrist.  The Titan paused, turning her head to look down at her in surprise.  Shocked at her own actions, Petra hurriedly dropped her gaze, fixating onto her hand that held onto the other woman. </p><p>“You could stay,”<br/>
Petra said, her voice soft. A sense of deja vu enveloped her. </p><p>She braved looking up.  Alura’s glowing green eyes were soft. The Lightbearer turned slowly until she faced Petra, who shyly released her. She opened her mouth, just slightly, perhaps to say she would, perhaps to refuse like she had once before.  </p><p>Petra kissed her.   </p><p>For a moment the world slowed down, and Petra was thinking only of how badly she’d wanted this, lost in the feeling of those velvety  pink lips against her own.  </p><p>It could have been a moment or an eternity, though strong hands gently pushed her back all too soon. Terror seized the normally fearless and collected women that was the Queen’s Wrath, and so she spoke before the other woman could. </p><p>“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Petra started, then more openly, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” </p><p>“You won’t,” Alura assured her immediately, bright eyes gleaming in the low light. ”You haven’t,” she then adds more confidently. “I just don’t understand.” </p><p>Petra let out a tiny laugh, while also wanting to crawl into a hole. This poor naive little Lightbearer. How could she not see that Petra was falling head first for her? Was it not obvious that she wanted her? That the world might end and Petra would have let any chance go?  Was it so hard to believe that even the Queen’s Wrath was afraid of the Pyramids settling among the skies, and wanted to feel close to someone? Close to Her? </p><p>“Alura,” Petra began, choosing her worlds carefully. “I can’t hold back any longer. I’m afraid I won’t see you again.” </p><p>The Gaurdian is thoughtful, and Petra can see the gears turning within her pretty head. </p><p>“I’m not sure I can give you more than this. “  </p><p>Although she saw it coming, Petra’s heart sank. </p><p> “I do care about you, it is not that I don’t find you beautiful.” The Gaurdian stepped closer and took a piece of Petra’s fire colored hair between her fingers. She exuded confidence, even as she looked pensive. Petra wasn’t sure how this was possible when she was falling apart. She could hardly focus, her eyes darting to The Young Wolf’s lips. </p><p>“I’m not sure if I know how to be more than this, if I can do that and be a Guardian.” Alura’s voice was thoughtful, and tender.  Then the alluring woman took on an apologetic tone as she murmured, “I am uncertain if I can... if I’m ready to be attached to anyone new yet.“ </p><p>Of course, Petra thought, Cayd. How selfish of her, of course the Gaurdian was still young, still so traumatized, of course- </p><p>Her internal monologue against herself was cut off as the Guardian interrupted the growing tension.  “But if all that’s right with you, I would like to stay.” The Titan glanced around her lips. Perhaps Petra was dreaming. Hadn’t she just refused her? Had she?  No, Petra realized.. not .. quite. </p><p>“I,” Petra said, half tormented, half hope.<br/>
“I don’t expect anything of you,” the Queen’s Wrath said, lifting her chin. Her entire body was on edge. She was flustered and hurt at the same time, but her mind was made up. No matter the future, she had Alura here and now.</p><p> Her hands had found their way to Alura’s abdomen. She carefully took the taught fabric of her shirt there so she wouldn’t pinch any skin and twisted her fingers into it. </p><p>“Stay.“ </p><p>The Lightbearer hesitated and Petra worried she might have misinterpreted, or if she was changing her mind. </p><p>As if to quell Petra’s fears, the Guardian stepped to where they were nearly pressed against each other, the two’s lips drawing ever closer.   </p><p>“You’re sure?” She asked. Petra nodded, her heart hammering in chest.  Alura smelled like pine trees and rain. She had forgotten how to speak, the wine helping to redden her already flushed cheeks and warming her stomach. </p><p>Is this happening? Petra watched in disbelief, as the Gaurdian shed her jacket, tossing it to the side. It made a soft thudding noise as it landed somewhere on the couch. </p><p>The Young Wolf met her gaze again, closing the distance between their mouths in one fluid motion. Petra wondered if the dragon had heard her after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok so next chapter will most likely be the return to the Guardian’s POV.  I’ve already started writing it !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Eye of the Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the long hiatus. I’m back into it now! I cannot not wait to write The crow into this :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Guardian fell to her knees, bloody hands reaching for the chest of a fallen man. His robes of white were ripped, blacked and drenched in red. His golden helmet was dented and caved inwards on the right side of his skull. Cracks spread like lightning across his visor. </p><p>“Marcus,” she gasped, her voice cracking, “it’s over.”<br/>
There was no response, the only sound a piercing ringing.  The Guardian’s own armor looked no better. Most of it was battered and shredded.  She was missing a shoulder plate and half of the chest piece had been ripped off.  Her left foot was bare and caked in blood. The plate on her hip was singed and burned, and  the armor on her left leg  was so ruined that it looked like used tin foil.  One of her gauntlets was  hanging off her wrist. </p><p>“Ghost!”  She cried. </p><p>“I’m here.”   </p><p>She felt his warm presence besides her face, but she did not look. She could not look at him, else risk catching a glimpse of what lay outside of her peripheral. She did not want to see the dead.  A memory that occurred moments before played within the armored woman’s mind. </p><p>“Save your light!” The Guardian had shoved her Ghost away from her.  “Save them first!”</p><p>“But-“ </p><p> “Do it!” she snapped, the effort of raising her voice causing her to cough up blood.  She stumbled after putting too much weight on her ruined leg. </p><p>The dead were other guardians, four people that she’d  leant over and tried to save. Four new friends that remained unmoving and broken, even dismembered.  </p><p>“There’s nothing left,” Ghost had murmured, his voice broken. “I can’t do anything, I’m sorry.”  </p><p>The deads’ ghosts were scattered and in pieces, save one that lay still upon the black stone floor. She’d lifted it, and was amazed of how heavy the little thing was in her hand. Moving on auto-pilot, the warrior in black and white had stumbled forward and fallen to her knees, finally giving into her own wounds and exhaustion. With great effort, she placed the ghost on the corresponding body’s chest.  </p><p>Her bloody hands held the white little Ghost against his heart. Her red fingers smeared blood on the perfect snow white of it’s surface.<br/>
Against her will, flashbacks of the past few hours flashed through her mind. She focus in on the white ghost between her palms, trying not to pass out. </p><p>She remembered Kat going down first, consumed by thrall. Nothing they could do. </p><p>Echo-3, stripped of his light and life by a wizard, a moment before Zane’s bullet killed it. </p><p>Zane, felled by Crota himself, the Hive demon’s sword slicing the hunter clean in half. </p><p>Then Jeremy, slayed by Crota’s kick, revived, and then killed again, beheaded by sword. </p><p>There was not enough light left. </p><p>And then Marcus.  </p><p>“Now!” The Warlock had shouted at her.  </p><p>Now blinded by the Warlocks light, Crota swung his enormous left arm blindly, catching the man across  the face, sending his body flying.</p><p>“NO!” The Gaurdian summoned all her strength. Lightning began to course through her veins, crackling across her arms she thrust the sword into the Hive creature’s heart. Crota staggered backwards from the force of the blow, lifting a hand the his chest as if to try and rip the blade out. The Guardian’s desperation and rage filled blow had caused her to stumble backwards as well. The two of them wavered, unbalanced for a moment, the monster’s face twisting into something like disbelief. The Guardian didn’t hesitate.  She charged at him, erupting into a blinding misslle of lightening, smashing into him and driving  the blade in it deeper, knocking the giant Hive Knight down. She had landed upon on his sternum, the lightning from her form lashing and snapping, leaving a devastating field in its wake. She beat the sword into his thrashing and seizing body with one hand on its grip, the other striking the pommel as if it was a nail. The Guardian was screaming as she did so, watching as his form burst and cracked, oozing green blood, pure dark slithering from his wound.  Her lightning invaded his body, burning him from the inside out. </p><p>“You will drown in the deep,” a voice said. She did not recognize the voice.  The Guardian heard it in her head, somewhere within her. It did not come from Crota’s dying breath. Had it come from her? She twisted the sword violently inside him in response. </p><p>The Demon managed to claw off her shoulder plate, before his struggling form began  to crumble beneath her.  She watched his eyes the entire time.   </p><p>The blue lightning faded from her body as Crota faded from her grip. The Guardian stood victorious and alone in the dark, sword in hand, amongst the bodies of her friends. </p><p>Currently, the last woman standing, or kneeling rather, continued to stare down into the mutilated visor of the man she’d called Marcus, her broken fingers clutching his ghost upon his chest. The last one to fall, the last hope to check.  </p><p> “Guardian!” Her ghost got brighter suddenly, “I think I’ve-“ as he brightened even more, she lifted a hand to her face to shield her eyes from the burst. </p><p>A larger hand suddenly grasped the one she’d raised, large fingers overlapping her palm.  She blinked wetness from her eyes. Strange, the realization dawned somewhere in the back of her mind. She’d never cried before. The white Ghost in her resting hand floated to life gently before her eyes, it’s blue light pulsing with a force that wiped the tears from her cheeks.</p><p>Marcus was alive.</p><p>_________________</p><p>Marcus was waiting for her in the Tower’s hangar.  When the Guardian’s armored feet impacted on the ground,  near every head of the area’s inhabitants turned to see Oryx’s killer touch down.  Where the stares and unsubtle glances of civilians, soldiers, and even other guardians used to make her uncomfortable, she’d long gotten used to it. </p><p>Alura landed gracefully, her black and gold armor adapting easily to her movement. No sound was made from the heavily armored woman except for her boots which thudded onto the concrete floor. </p><p>Though her glinting armor was eye catching, it was the ship that gave away the identity of the new arrival in the tower.  The ship looked as if it had tiny stars scattered accross it.  It was sharp and angled, with hues of blueish white along its mostly midnight black exterior. The ship’s wings were centered on either side of the cockpit, and were angled one hundred and eighty degrees to it.  In front, the ship featured two long sharp prongs symmetrical to each other. A black energy resonated from the ship in the form of black tendrils that ghosted along the ship’s exterior. You could only see the moving smoke if one stood at the right angle, or if the light caught the outline of the wings just right. </p><p>When Alura had brought the ship to the tower for the first time, word had spread quickly about the “Taken” ship, as the civilians had been nicknaming it, and how the owner was none other than the Traveler’s Chosen herself. A ship that looked Taken in nature did not go unnoticed, as there weren’t too many spacecraft made in the image of humanity’s  greatest enemies. This was no different, and was the only one of its kind.  </p><p>Thousand Wings, was the ships whispered name, a gift from Xol to match the dead worm God’s essence she’d claimed in the form of a sniper rifle. She remembered feeling disappointed that Xol had decided that he would give himself to her as such. Not that Alura would ever tell anyone that.  Only Marcus  and Seven knew, as they’d been the ones who had followed her into the pit the Worm God had beckoned her to. </p><p>The two had volunteered to accompany her, all of them not quite knowing what they were getting into.  When it was over, Alura had held the gun in her hands and faced them with uncertainty. Marcus didn’t hesitate, putting a hand on her arm, “We’re good here,” He said simply. Alura had felt a wave of gratitude engulf her at her companion’s assurance.  </p><p> The two of them then glanced at Seven, who wasn’t even watching them. He’d been fiddling with a data pad as if nothing had just happened.<br/>
“What’re you looking at? If we’re all done gossiping we should get going,” he grumbled at them once noticing their stares. When Alura and Marcus remained silent, he had sighed, exasperated. “I have no recollection of today,” he then added, smiling briefly at her before returning to his fiddling. Alura had exhaled in relief. </p><p>They’d returned a few more times, for the catalyst of the weapon, and then the ship. The three of them happily keeping it a secret.  It wasn’t as if they didn’t have any morals, or weren’t loyal to the Vanguard or to the light, but curiosity drove them further and further to see Xol’s quest through. “You’re too curious for a Titan,” Seven had told her, “I like that. “ It was also, of course, to see that Xol remained as dead as he seemed. At least that’s what the Titan and two Warlocks told themselves. </p><p> The Vanguard, and as did everyone else, she supposed, believed she had found the ship’s protoype blueprints from snooping around Ulan Tan’s grove. It was partially true. The same notion went for her Whisper of the Worm sniper rifle. </p><p>She didn’t really like sniper rifles. She’d much rather have preferred a hand canon, rifle, bow, or actually anything else, but it wasn’t exactly like she could have told Xol that. He might’ve done it to spite her actually, since she killed him after all. </p><p>Eris had helped cover for her when the vanguard took interest in her new arsenal. The brooding and mysterious woman had stated she’d personally helped the Guardian fashion the weapon, and that it was only a powerful tool to use against the Traveler’s enemies.  </p><p>Alura had found herself to be completely surprised by the endorsement she hadn’t asked for, and grateful. She supposed that without Eris stepping in she might’ve been under a lot more scrutiny. Eris had asked no questions, and when Alura had tried to open up a little, figuring that if anyone would understand, it would be her, Eris had strongly refused her. She’d insisted that she “already had some idea” and “trusted that the Guardian use it like the Touch of Malice”.  </p><p>Eris Morn’s perception continued to impress.  Alura guessed that it would be near impossible to fool Eris on any matter involving the Hive. The Touch of Malice, was in a sense Oryx, pretty much the same way the Whisper of the Worm was Xol.  Both weapons sat currently in a Vault within her personal quarters, hidden.  Occasionally, she felt the urge to use them, and ease the two’s eternal hunger, and her own. At that moment when Eris had stepped in for her, Alura’s sense of loyalty to her only grew.</p><p>Now, in the wake of the arrival of the Darkness, working so closely with the woman had solidified her feelings. Alura would do absolutely anything for her. Eris had saved her many times from death and then from political and military trouble. The sorceress had been a prominent figure within her life since she was a New Light. </p><p>She had guided Alura all the way from Crota’s threat to slaying the most powerful god countless galaxies had ever crossed. She never led her astray, and was never not watching out for Alura.  It was fitting then, that in the eyes of the Titan, Eris Morn was invaluable.  As Alura’s gratitude and appreciation for her grew larger, she dared think that Eris was a friend, a real one like Marcus, and not simply a commander or asset for the Vanguard. As long as Alura breathed, she would return the favor. Without Eris, they would all have perished long ago when Crota resurfaced. </p><p>The people in the hangar respectfully averted their gazes when Alura straightened up from her landing, the whirring sound of Thousand Wings becoming faint as Ghost sent it to return to orbit.  Except for Marcus of course, who crossed his arms,  the famous helm of Felwinter proudly facing her direction from between his shoulders. Underneath her own helm, Alura brightened at the sight of him. </p><p>“Well look who decided to show up?” He mused, his voice deep and smooth, “the team and I had to finish our patrols without you”.</p><p>The two fell into step beside each other, the Warlock’s white and gold cloak levitating gracefully behind him.  He was nearly as tall as the Titan besides him, even as the Gaurdian’s armor added a few inches to her height. </p><p>“I’m sure it was nothing you couldn’t handle,” the Young Wolf teased, casting a glance down at her friend. She considered him to be her closest, besides Ghost of course. She’d met Marcus a few nights before her raid against Crota.  Hand picked by Ikora, he’d been a rising member of her Hidden. This was not revealed until after the raid’s mission, when both of them reported to Eris Morn herself. </p><p>The sensitive information was entrusted to her partly because she had proved herself to be a worthy and valuable asset to Hidden operations, and partly because Eris seemed to decide that she owed her as much truth as possible since she had avenged the dark sorceress’s dead fire team.  Marcus had not seemed to mind at all, instantly adopting her as his “New Light”, inserting himself as a big brother figure and friend for whom she could trust and rely on. </p><p>Once their debrief of their mission was over, the tall Warlock had said his first words to her. “So,” he’d said as they were walking up the stairs of the tower, “What the hell is a new light doing on this mission?”  </p><p>She’d then promptly succumbed to her stereotypical Titan instincts, and challenged him to private crucible in order to prove herself, but Marcus proposed different terms instead.  They were to run a strike and couple patrols so they could get a feel of working together. The other members of their team, appointed by Zavala were to join them as well.  </p><p>Alura remembered how excited she’d been to be around other gaurdians. It was stressful enough on her own, and the situation presented a perfect a opportunity to get to know someone else other than Ghost. She’d seen guardians with arms around each other’s shoulders in the Tower, groups laughing and enjoying camaraderie. Alura had no idea how to do that, but she craved it. Ghost had tried to help her make friends, but the Titan’s confidence seemed to shatter at the idea of approaching a group. She had managed to make a few acquaintances, but none seemed to stick. </p><p>When Marcus had been the only one left alive with her, at the End of Crota, they’d  gathered what remains they could of the other four dead Gaurdians and their ghosts. The two had then dragged eachother out of Hell, not saying a word the entire time, becoming bonded forever.  The experience was demoralizing and traumatizing for a new Guardian. It changed her. Alura still wore the necklace. Small silver shards of Ghost fragments of her first fire team hung from a ornate band around her neck. Later, she would make another layer for the five guardians Oryx would kill. That experience would further push her reserved attitude as well. Actually, Alura had really no idea how to not be working, or killing. Friendships were still new and “hanging out” was still something she was learning to do. </p><p>Upon resurfacing srom the Hellmouth where they’d slain Crota, The Gaurdian, nameless at the time, and Marcus stuck close by one another. He’d been steadfast in making sure he was available and present with her whenever possible. He never verbalized it, but showed her with his actions that he meant to stay her friend. She supposed their experience in the Hellmouth together meant that they had to stick together now as they had then. He was so persistent, that Alura supposed there would have been no other choice but to welcome him into her life. </p><p>Although thankful, she’d been wary of him at first, alone save for Ghost in a strange world where she was only a soldier, where she’d seen guardians were not invincible and could die as fast as they were reborn.  Yet over time she’d slowly opened up to the Warlock. What other choice was there when her only friend was a floating ball and the only familiar faces were her commanders first and people second.  </p><p>Marcus made sure she knew the ins and out of the tower, and was her first source of information for learning about her world’s politics and customs.  He’d made sure to show her where to get her own sources so that he would not influence her opinions too much. He was kind, strong, and stern, and she attributed much of her stoic demeanor to him. While seemingly intimidating, the Warlock was warm and charismatic. Alura learned from him when to show it and when to hold back. Lately, she’d chosen silence altogether. </p><p> </p><p>Present day Marcus glanced back at her, his voice shaking her out of her thoughts. </p><p>“Alura,” he dropped his voice to a near whisper at the mention of her name, “I saw your location at the Reef.” </p><p>Alura dropped her gaze under her helm, grateful for the Mask of the Quiet One’s cover.<br/>
She’d forgotten she’d accepted the fire team request earlier yesterday, meaning Marcus could see her location.  Typical forgetfulness of a Titan, she could almost hear Seven’s voice in her head. </p><p>When she said nothing, Marcus spoke again. “Petra Venj, you were with her.” </p><p>There was no question.<br/>
Marcus, and her team of course was aware of her friendship with the Queen’s Wrath, and had all worked closely with her during the Dreaming City campaign. Actually, at least one  team member filled in for Alura when she could not return to deal with the curse on the annual three week basis.  She was the only one however, who had been spending rather frequent alone time with the General. </p><p>The odd feeling in her stomach rose to her throat. Alura did not like embarrassment. It was still a new feeling to her. </p><p>“Yes,” she replied to her friend finally, “I should have messaged you. I am sorry. “ </p><p>The Warlock let out a quiet laugh, clapping her shoulder briefly. </p><p>“Teasing, Wolf. Just don’t tell Leon.“ </p><p>Alura smirked, enjoying the feeling of relief.  </p><p>Their fire team member was... loud, and a stereotypical Titan. While hilarious, the man seemed to always have some type of drama in the form of the opposite sex. </p><p>For the Guardian, whose only prior romantic experience was Cayd, she felt somewhat too terrified to attempt any type of entertainment with that part of life. Friends were difficult enough. It was too risky to try to get close to anyone like she had with Cayd. The moment she’d allowed herself to get close, with heart and skin, he’d been taken from her. Just like her first friends had been. She did not know how Leon managed to keep the company of so many women, and how he never learned his lesson.</p><p>But she had not been able to refuse Petra.</p><p>“I have no idea what I’m doing.” She confessed to Marcus.  It was always easy to speak to him. To anyone else, sometimes it was like words were stuck in her throat. Even Ghost sometimes was not so easy to be forthcoming to, as their relationship was still not quite the same. As much as she loved her Little Light, Alura felt as though Ghost was too self righteous for his own good.  </p><p> </p><p>They’d paused near Amanda’s space in the tower, just at the bottom of the stairs.  The warlock took his helmet off, leaning against the wall. Alura mirrored him, positioning herself to his left, her exotic helm dissipating into thin air as she stored it for later.  When the Warlock stayed quiet, Alura wondered if her own silence was this annoying to other people. </p><p>“She, “ Alura struggled, “she kissed me. “.  The gold and black Titan made a face. </p><p>Marcus arched his brown “That bad? Surprising, considering your location never changed.” </p><p>“No! No, “ the lavender skinned woman bit her lip, waving her hands awkwardly. </p><p>“Just, that, I think she expressed feelings for me.” Alura paused again. “Kind of?”  Her fingers fingers to rub nervously against Crimson’s grip. </p><p>Marcus waited. Stupid silent man. </p><p>“I just, froze.” She admitted. “I don’t know if I can do that relationship thing. I don’t know how to do it.”  Alura barely even knew how to act outside of the field. She killed things and solved problems. Before, that was it. Now she supposed she was also a friend. Romance though.. was still so unknown. The lavender woman  didn’t know what it was like to court someone with acts of romance. She’d never had the chance to act them out with Cayd besides their subtle dance around each other.  </p><p>“You tell her?”  Marcus’s voice was gentle. </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>He watched her with dark blue eyes filled with mirth.  The shadow he stood in made his moca skin look darker.</p><p>“And still... you slept with her.”  </p><p>Alura felt her cheeks start to burn. She stared back at him, just as stubbornly.  Thinking about it, maybe it wasn’t the best thing she’d done. She’d been honest with Petra, about her fears and her desire. Wasn’t honesty good?  By the look on Marcu’s face, it seemed she had much more to learn about emotions. Had it been selfish? She frowned. Had she hurt Petra? </p><p>Marcus sighed, her silence answer enough. </p><p>“You better fix that. “ </p><p>“Thanks.”   </p><p> </p><p>He changed his demeanor, the amusement leaving him. “Look, I’m not gonna say it’s a good idea. Her position makes it quite a political gamble, not to mention you being one of the most prolific among our ranks, so be careful and keep it lowkey.” </p><p>Alura nodded, listening intently as she always did when her brother figure gave advice. </p><p>Marcus continued, “If she’s fallen for you, do it right. Don’t get close to her if you know you’ll want to walk away. Else you’ll be a heartbreaker on top of the whole God killer thing. That’s a bit overkill even for you Gaurdian.” </p><p>Alura dipped her head again, feeling small for the first time in years. </p><p> “After Cayd,” she spoke the dead man’s name reverently, “I haven’t known how to reach out like that,”<br/>
She admitted this softly.</p><p>Marcus nodded approvingly. “It is about time I see you take interest in someone new. It will not dishonor his memory.“</p><p>“I know, but-” </p><p>“What is this hesitation I hear?” He shakes his head at her, and grins. “Take it head on. Learn by doing. You’re a Titan.” He drops his voice an octave at the last word.   </p><p>The Warlock then proceeded to fit his exotic helmet back on over his head.</p><p>“Now come on, You promised us a game or two Dredgen.” </p><p>“Fine, but if Kelly blows us up again before we can bank our last motes I’m out.” </p><p>“You tell her that, I wouldn’t dare mention it again.” </p><p>The two of them laughed and Alura places her own helm back into place, listening to the familiar clink of her helmet’s chain metal.  The hiss it made once bonding with the armor helped to gain her usual confidence and charisma back.  I am a Titan, she smiles. </p><p> </p><p>.....</p><p> </p><p>I am a Titan,  She thinks.</p><p>I am a Titan. </p><p>The Guardian repeats the mantra in her head to combat her fear.<br/>
Her armored feet echoe with each step on the black glossy floor. </p><p>Tendrils of black smoke brush at her waist, she feels them on her armor the same as she would hands in her skin.  Her stomach twists, goosebumps erupting over her entire body. The hairs on the nape of her neck stand tall. </p><p>The pyramid is jet black and glimmers like iridescent obsidian. Soft silver light drapes over it from above, emphasizing the diety as the center of the room. Surrounding the symbol for the Dark God there are what appear to be statues of Eliksni, Cabal, Hive, and mankind?  </p><p>Alura steps forward, moving to evaluate her new surroundings that were forced upon her.  </p><p>“You see?” Ghost was not Ghost again. His cold voice sent chills through her spine. “In light there is only weakness.” </p><p>Alura’s skin crawls.  The statues appear to be worshipping the centered pyramid. Some of the figures are fraying and cracked, fractured.  Her mind is sharp, even in her terror, she focuses for any movement, any clue, any escape. Beyond the statues there is nothing but an empty black void.  Only by the rays of light above the pyramid is she permitted to see. </p><p>With the Darkness possessing her Little Light, she was alone. Alura darts around an Eliksni statue with an outstretched hand, reaching towards the pyramid.  She wonders if the pyramid would do this to her. She remembers dressing quietly and admiring the silver light across Petra’s her bare shoulders, and the accent in the other woman’s voice when she had whispered, “Come back, please.”  Her jaw sets. She had promises to keep. Although defenseless in a reality made  by the Darkness itself, she would not go willingly. There was always a way out. </p><p>I am a Titan, Alura thinks. Her hands are faithful and don’t shake. Her steps are sure footed and steady.  Her mind is clear and molds her to be unwavering, the definition of her class. </p><p>I am a Titan. </p><p>In a bizarre sense of deja vu, Alura remembers feeling the same when she’d been risen and taken her first steps.  The fear, confusion, and then the absolute resolve. Crimson gleams in her right hand. </p><p>“No longer will you watch those you care for be taken from you.” </p><p>Instantly, against her will, Alura remembers  gentle hands and hard blue shoulders. </p><p>The Dark caresses her cheek.  She does not flinch even as she bites the inside of  her cheek. She tastes blood. </p><p>You are the slayer of Oryx’s near entire dynasty, Nokris fell before you minutes ago, Alura tells herself.  Savathun herself wanted her fealty. </p><p>What is another God to you?  She thinks she hears his voice in place of her own. </p><p>The Dark speaks again, “Remember, in Darkness there is only strength. Only victory.”</p><p>The sound ricochets against her eardrums and  vibrates her bones. </p><p>“Only life”</p><p>She turns away from the kneeling and reaching statues to face the pyramid. </p><p>“Ancient power awaits you on Europa.”   </p><p>The sense of alarm and danger does not fade, but she is numbed to it. It was as before, the  dark has made her a promise. Salvation, now power? She could not ignore the Dark’s interest in her, or her own interest in it.  She’s suddenly fully aware of the weight of Ruinous Effigy upon her back.</p><p>“Guardian,” Eris Morn’s soft voice breaks through the dark. </p><p>Alura whirls around to meet the familiar green of Eris’s magic.  She does not hesitate. The Titan leaps through her savior’s portal. </p><p>The Titan allows herself to relax at the sight of Eris beneath the tree of silver wings. </p><p>“Ghost?” She whispers, her voice tentative. </p><p>“I’m here,” he answers.  “I’m sorry.” </p><p> Alura breaths deeply through her nose, and has the urge to hold him against her chest.<br/>
She does not act on this. Instead, she approaches Eris, refusing to show any sign of unsettlement. </p><p>The woman smiles at her briefly before turning away.  Clearly Eris had no idea of her little side quest. She assumed her time in the dark reality had been outside of time’s influence.  The sorceress had no idea she’d been interfered with. That was troubling, and so she made a small decision to keep it to herself.  She would speak with Ghost before deciding to tell anyone. </p><p>Alura steps  closer to the ex-Hunter and provides the seed. </p><p>“I am glad you are unharmed.” Eris says as she takes it.  “Your battle was impressive.” </p><p>Alura remembers nearly dying several times in her battle with Nokris, but not once did she fall. Her shoulders straighten with pride. </p><p>The Titan notices Eris smiling again. It’s tiny and barely there, save for the slightest curve of the woman’s plush lips.  The sorceress was awfully gleeful.  Killing the hive close in relation to Crota always did it for her it seemed. She wants to see the expression more on the sorceress. </p><p>“I am glad to see you.” She tells Eris.  It’s the truth, but the woman has no idea just how grateful Alura actually is this moment. The sorceress turns her head slightly up towards her and Alura focuses on the center green eye. </p><p>The moment is broken and whatever Eris is about to say is interrupted as the seed relays the final message from the darkness. </p><p>Eris looks away, focusing on the seed.<br/>
“This transmission can be interpreted as contact..” she says, “Not physical. More ethereal. Influential. “<br/>
“It is conjugated here as an action with a singular subject but with innumerable objects.”</p><p>Eris then looks back up at her, “Guardian, what if we are not the only ones to whom the Darkness speaks?”</p><p>The Young Wolf remains silent.  The urgency and danger of the impending doom grows ever larger. The two stand side by side in the light of the tree for a time, each pondering the insurmountable weight upon their shoulders. </p><p>The light peaking through the small circle within the tree’s metallic branches seemed to be the last metaphor for hope, as elsewhere the branches were dense and dark and merging together and light could peak through. The fallen guardian and the Young Wolf stand within the eye of the storm.</p><p> Alura realizes that while each victory may be a step forward, there is still always a step back. Maybe nothing will ever enough. She can never do enough. The sorceress stands closer to her. The movement is slight. Maybe just not alone.<br/>
When Eris turns to leave, so does she.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think it’s very sus how Crota slaughtered hundred of Guardians and was an absolute terror of an idiot son, and how it wasn’t too hard to kill him. And same with Oryx so in my story there’s more consequences for beating Hive Gods.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for giving the story a try! Doing my best to bring insight into the world of Destiny and its characters.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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